The Greatest Treason of All [039 - Taste]
Jan. 19th, 2006 11:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runespoorTitle: The Greatest Treason of All
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Andromeda Black
Prompt: 039 - Taste
Word Count: 4’400
Rating: PG-13
‘The last thing, this is the greatest treason,
To do the right thing for the wrong reason.’
- T. S. Eliot
The Greatest Treason of All
The jukebox was playing a Simon and Garfunkel song and Andromeda was trying to hum along. She wasn’t so used to the Muggle world for a simple song to lose its otherworldly qualities, though Ted listened to the best music and as such she did too, fancying herself pretty educated in this respect when she recognised the occasional tune. The day was a greyish, cold, wet November day, the kind that even she could not pretend she loved. Yet she was filled with a feeling of dark joy. Under the table, she ran her finger along her wand, and a soft smile played on her lips.
She was sitting alone, and no-one was bothering her. The waitress had brought her a cup of hot tea, and had soon forgotten about her, going on her way with a slightly dazed look. Customers’ glances slipped on Andromeda like water on silk. Muggles of all sexes and persuasions were unaware of her presence, and this suited Andromeda just fine, Andromeda who was sitting alone, in a Muggle café.
Andromeda waited for a few minutes for the liquid to infuse before she sipped at her tea, bergamot and cinnamon. It turned out just bitter enough that she wished she hadn't waited quite so long.
She wished that alright.
If Ted knew she was there, he’d wonder about the reason. It was the kind of thing he did a lot (didn't he?). And if he could see her now... Well, who could say what he’d do? (Not her.) Feel concerned, Andromeda tried to discern. She wasn’t very good at guessing Ted’s feelings and reactions. She generally felt very clumsy, very immature, very cruel, and heels over head in love. She couldn’t help but resent him at the thought that if he could see her now, see her face and her eyes and her smile, he’d read there what she was planning. He wouldn’t approve, she felt with a pang of guilt. (Probably wouldn't.)
She pinched her lips. She was a Black, she severely reminded herself. A Black had no business giving in to a man’s expectations or emotional blackmail. Besides, it was what he had asked for, hadn’t he? He known what he was in for, certainly. He could have got himself any nice Muggle or Muggle-born girl if it was what he had wanted, but where would have been the fun in that? (She kept her lips from curling at the thought.) So proper, so decent. So stable. Add two or three equally nice and bland children to the mix, and here you are.
(It would never have been romantic enough. Ted was a sucker for romance, an idealist. And she loved drama as much as the next Black, of course... Romance needn’t end, they agreed. If it ends it's not romance. Perhaps it would one day, but until then, Andromeda would have let herself been put under Cruciatus rather than not make the most of it.)
He was the reason she was doing this.
Because there was no way she’d do it otherwise. She thought it was disgraceful, the lows to which one must resolve oneself in times of guerilla. It didn’t push any of her buttons. At all. This was not about viciousness and cruelty and manipulation and ruthlessness, fine Black traditions that she’d never pretended she didn’t enjoy. It was about...
Andromeda dropped the thought. She hadn’t managed to think out the lie before formulating it, too bad. Now she just had to push it out of her mind without being at all convinced.
She had to be.
Who knew what Bellatrix could have learned? She toyed with the notion of Bellatrix as a skilled Legilimens. Her smile took a disdainful air. For all of Bellatrix’s proficiency at duelling, there were things she’d always been hopeless at. Such as mind games, discretion, diplomacy, subtlety, general lying... Beware of sweeping generalisations, Andromeda.
Arrogance and recklessness. She was no better than Sirius on a bad day.
Well... a little better, she corrected herself, caressing her wand again. She hadn’t come unprepared. It had been more than a handful of months since she and Bellatrix had met in friendly duel, but Bellatrix hadn’t been the only one keeping busy. (Ted, Andromeda reflected, was being surprisingly accepting of his girlfriend’s occupational hobbies.)
She knew Bellatrix was coming as soon as she felt the warning spell go off, triggered by an Apparation close by. Then, when Bellatrix’s hand touched the door, her magical signature flashed before Andromeda’s eyes, immediatly followed by a thrill of excitation.
She entered, as beautiful as she’d ever been, proud and defiant to those casual observers. Andromeda noticed her wet hair, her eyes that narrowed suspiciously when they locked upon her own, her disgust and unease at walking in a room full of Muggles.
People had looked up when she’d come in, but as she sat at Andromeda’s table, she was taken in by the Notice-Me Not spell.
Andromeda smiled. There was something oddly exhilarating with getting cool’n superior on such an obviously disgruntled Bellatrix. Not a November person, Bellatrix.
“Hello, Bellatrix.” How are you on this fine day? Glad you could make with a minimal amount of curses. She cut back on the sarcasm. Her way of dealing with Bellatrix involved not saying half of what she thought, which guaranteed both her continued well-being and her obtaining what she wanted. Certainly telling Bellatrix a piece of her mind would be amusing, but... she had other things on her agenda, things that directly conflicted with the Getting Bellatrix Furious Experience.
Anyway, if the Talking Sense Into Bellatrix part of the plan didn't work, then she'd be provided with the occasion she was waiting for.
“You wanted to meet,” Bellatrix answered. She was holding herself too straight, and she wasn’t quite looking Andromeda in the eyes. Of course, Andromeda acknowledged. She’s ill at ease because she doesn’t want to treat me as a friend, and she can’t be too cold or else it’ll look like as if she’s obeying an order.
It was sad, in a sense, that they’d come so far. Andromeda permitted herself to take two seconds to wallow in regrets and self-pity (tssk. Such a shame...) then moved on. She promised herself there would be more time, later.
“Indeed.” She nodded, not smiling anymore. Then she scrutinised Bellatrix, looking for tell-tales details, shadows under the eyes, hair in disarray, ugly clothes. There was, strictly speaking, none.
“You look good,” she finally said.
“Was that why you wanted to see me? To say engagement agrees with me?” There was impatience there, but also something that could be hurt, and anger.
Andromeda gave her half a smile. “No, but it’s a plus.”
Bellatrix bristled. She did look good, with cheeks flushed and hair shining and things Andromeda would never have worn outside the house and certainly not where Ted could see her. (Badly cut and unfeminine. And the worst was that they were flattering on Bellatrix, who looked all the more womanly in wizard-like clothes.) She didn’t say anything, and in fact didn’t even look at Andromeda, who felt a rush of tenderness toward her. Sweet darling Bella. So straight-forward, so violent.
Had she been having this conversation with Narcissa, her younger sister would have said she was sorry she couldn’t reciprocate the compliment, and she’d have made a point to stop at all the places of interest – Andromeda’s messy hair, the hem that had come undone, the scratch that must have escaped her Concealing Charms, and Andromeda would have felt annoyed and vulnerable – Narcissa who couldn’t understand desire, Ted and herself and their own voracity, and especially her chronic inability to – well.
Right. Bellatrix.
“Straight to the point, then.” She nodded. “So, what have you been doing since we last saw each other?” Her manner was the lightest she could make it, and at the same time conveyed the distinct impression that she was asking her final question.
Bellatrix shot her an incredulous look. “I don’t believe it. You made me come to a Muggle pub to ask me that?” As if this was the greatest treason of all.
Poor Bella. So straight-forward, so candid.
And then, just as if Bellatrix had turned a switch, Andromeda’s demeanour changed. Her smile vanished and was replaced with an icy look.
“Actually, I did.”
As she put on a stack of papers on the table, she couldn’t keep from glaring at her sister.
“What did you do since we last saw each other?”
Each word lashed as a whip. Bellatrix’s eyes widened.
“Andromeda, I truly don’t see what you mean...” She sounded sincere, which suggested she really had no idea what could put Andromeda in such a mood. She’d been so astonished by the reaction that she hadn’t even retained her distant composure.
For another fleeting instant, Andromeda wished it was just a matter of Bellatrix failing to tell her she’d taken to date someone else, or that she’d been unofficially offered an apprenticeship at Hogwarts. Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend Andromeda had just been abroad for a few months and Bellatrix had been, as usual, rather sparse with her owls? She could have joyfully exploded with fury, then, and she’d have done so with stylish gusto and occasional hexes and threats of Unforgivables if ever Bellatrix dared to pull one of these again.
She briefly closed her eyes. Not today, not today, she pleaded. Her control couldn’t desert her now. Explosions would be all too litteral, and threats of Unforgivables would at once materialise into real Unforgivables that they’d throw at each other.
“I’ve been doing nothing special, okay?” Bellatrix added in an irritated tone.
“Do you think,” Andromeda evenly whispered, “that Narcissa would confirm that?”
Here was the reaction she’d hoped to get. Frozing, paling, then understanding dawning and Bellatrix looking for a culprit, for the traitor who had told on her.
It would have been funny, once, to see that expression and known one was the one who had caused it, to stab her in the back. It would have all been a game. Then Andromeda had grown and become a traitor in her family’s eyes – oh Bellatrix – without ever deserving it. And now that look was the most revolting thing Andromeda had ever seen.
“The little shit,” Bellatrix muttered between gritted teeth.
Andromeda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “She was not my information source.” Honestly. Why would Cissy have admitted to know such things? If ever there had been a drop of sense in the Black blood, it was running through Narcissa’s veins. And more importantly, why would Andromeda have revealed who had provided her with this news?
Now it was Bellatrix’s turn to glare at her. “And I suppose now you’re going to lecture me on how evil it is, right? That I should kneel before Dumbledore and find myself a nice Mudblood to settle down with, just like you did?”
“Oh, please.” I don’t give a rat’s arse about your compromising yourself as a Death Eater, you utter fool.
“Or about how awful of me it is to corrupt ickle Regulus into following into my footsteps?” Bellatrix gave a decent attempt at a sneer.
Hecate. I should hope you’re only trying to taunt me, what with him being fourteen and all. I do try to keep track of the family birthdays, you know, may I be part of it or disowned.
“Will you stop for one minute and listen to me?” Andromeda snapped. “I haven’t come here to try and reason you.” I’ve long known it’s simply impossible. “And I can’t care less about the way you choose to spend your time.” If you had to earn a living, you probably wouldn’t be wasting it so spectacularly, but as long as Ted and I don’t run into you when we’re working I can’t say your hobbies matter to me. “I’m here to tell you something quite, quite simple.”
In a word, to threaten you, blackmail you in the foulest, most ignominious fashion, and get a result. At any cost. All’s fair in love and war, as Muggles say. And Blacks were no Muggles, which she conveniently pushed from her mind.
Bellatrix was the first to look down.
“Well, do so, then.” She probably aimed for mocking, but she just achieved subdued.
Andromeda sighed. This was going to sound melodramatic no matter what she said; she had spent enough time trying to figure a way to put it to be aware of that. “Can’t you just drop the enmity and blindness for five minutes, Bella?” She was feeling tired, so tired... Couldn’t she indeed, when Andromeda was going to act every drop the bloodtraitor. “I know what you think about me, and frankly I don’t give a damn about it.” Except those times when she cried because she could not talk with her sisters, or kiss them, or laugh with them, or even be angry at each other and send curses flying...
“Thing is, it doesn’t matter whether you regard me to be a bloodtraitor or not, because anyway it’s not something you can erase with a flick of your wand as you may burn a name from a tapestry.” Andromeda paused. Bellatrix was stubbornly staring at the stack of paper. “And the same way I’m your blood, Ted is mine.” Bellatrix made a sudden move, but she didn’t say anything. “Well, you wouldn’t hurt Narcissa’s husband, when she marries, would you?... You can’t hurt the blood.”
“You aren’t married,” Bellatrix whispered. Her teeth were gritted, and yet she sounded unsure. Have you paid so little attention to me that you don’t even know if we’re married or not? Bellatrix. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, or am I another category altogether? What would be your answer, were I to ask you?
“I’ve performed enough Blood Rituals to make him more of a Black than our own mother,” Andromeda assured. Blood is blood, Black is Black.
“Was that why you came, then? To ask for my protection?” Bellatrix smiled haughtily.
“Let’s not forget our place, shall we? I told you to meet me here, and you did.” She seemed to consider this for a moment then blithely went on. “Anyway, who cares about that?” Except for the fact it points to the dominant position, of course. “You just can’t ignore that.”
No, she can’t, can she? It’s not done. She can’t pretend it isn’t there anymore than I can.
“You know,” Bellatrix suddenly started, “you never truly fit in. You were always a... a reject. A misfit. Even when you were in Slytherin, even when you were part of the clan, it never felt completely genuine. And before that, too. When it was just the five of us, and before Regulus was old enough too. I can remember then. When we were just the three sisters and Sirius was only a loud toddler. Not that he changed all that much since,” she added, “but... Yes.
“There was always something wrong. You wouldn’t laugh quite at the right things, you would get impatient during Father’s speeches. You would argue with Ravenclaws and discuss with Hufflepuffs and speak with Gryffindors. And as for your behaviour in Slytherin...” Bellatrix derisively snorted. “Never proven, of course, but some suspicions are almost proofs in themselves. I heard that Slytherin and Gryffindor were closely competing for the Quidditch Cup during your seventh year. Wasn’t it that Jorkins girl who was ‘the Gryffindor broom’?”
Andromeda was paralysed, eyes wide, willing her ears to go deaf and somehow not managing to keep her sister’s treacherous words from cutting into her as a thousand white-cold knives. Shut up, she wanted to shout, stopitstopitstopit, you know it’s not true, you don’t really believe it, the five of us were laughing, the five of us wanted to be out and play together, none of us cared the slightest bit about grown-ups business... And there were purebloods in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and Gryffindor too, it wasn’t about Houses then, it wasn’t about societal constructions.You never were about them. Remember how Father used to scorn them, saying they divided the true pure-blood society? And I was always a true Slytherin, more of a Slytherin than you, Bellatrix, with your hot-headed rashness... Have you forgotten when I made Hufflepuff lose a hundred of points, when I managed to blame all of the stupid things you did on that Gryffindor and she had the detentions, when I messed with the Ravenclaws subject exams?
And don’t say that, don’t say it, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin, you have no right, you don’t know what you’re talking about... (Evan and Brutus and Solis) and You’re lying, you don’t know about them, nobody knew, (Lucius and Marlene and Kingsley and Sirius and Rita and Benjy and and and...) and surely you don’t know about them and nobody does, sometimes I’m not even sure I do and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to learn they don’t remember after all, and anyway they weren’t all Slytherins... and I was nothing like Bertha. Was I?
Bellatrix’s eyes were glittering with malice. “I’d never have thought I’d see you lower yourself to begging me, Andromeda... Is your Mudblood making it worth it to you, I wonder?” She insistantly looked at Andromeda’s neck, where it joined the shoulder, where Andromeda’s low V-neck left a kiss mark in plain view, she knew. Andromeda watched her sister with fascinated eyes and slightly parted lips. Bellatrix’s own lips curled into a savage smile.
“Or does he have you co completely under his control that he only needs to order for you to drag all of our pure traditions in the mud of his blood?”
Andromeda snapped from her fascination and shook herself. Ted her master? How completely ludicrous.
Besides, Bella’s formulation was melodramatic enough to deserve a stare of its own.
“It’s not exactly your business, now is it?” Andromeda inquired. “Now, let’s get this done.” She pulled a pen from her bag, unscrewed it and put it in front of Bellatrix, on top of the papers she’d pushed toward her. Her sister eyed the Muggle device as if it was a particularly disgusting Flobberworm which had crawled into her lap.
“How about I buy you a coffee while you read it?” Andromeda’s voice was dripping with sweet venom. Bellatrix, of course, ignored her proposition in favour of the parchments. They were covered in Andromeda’s spiky, sharp handwriting, spelling equally sharp conditions.
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, her lips thinned and a hiss escaped them. “That’s...”
Blackmail, Andromeda acknowledged. She was stirring her spoon into her teacup to keep her hands occupied.
Across the table, Bellatrix had stopped ruffling through the sheets. Andromeda didn’t dare looking up.
“I am not recognising you as my legal Black heir.” Bellatrix’s tone was vibrating with suppressed indignation.
“It’s not up to discussion.”
A shiver made its way along her spine as the hatred in her sister’s eyes fired through her. She had to stay calm, she reminded herself. After all, if she looked unsure of herself, then Bellatrix might realise Andromeda couldn’t do much if she called her bluff. Denounce her to the Ministry? Andromeda didn’t doubt it was up to the Minister in corruption. Surely there must be Death Eaters in every Department. Even if Andromeda reported her to Dumbledore, Hecate forbid, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe Bellatrix wouldn’t have told her fellow Death Eaters of the predicament she was in. Andromeda Black would become a prime target among the prime targets, and for someone so intent on neutrality as she was, it would be a rather spectacular waste of good planning.
Things would have been different with Narcissa, who’d probably have noticed already the weakness in Andromeda’s scheme, but would have agreed all the same, because Narcissa wouldn’t have cared for risking her social place, and because she recognised Andromeda’s superiority whenever Machiavellian plots were concerned. On the other hand, Narcissa wouldn’t have become a Death Eater before Voldemort’s lording over the wizarding world was as good as achieved.
Aunt Vega, for instance, wouldn’t even have deigned to come, or reply at all (except perhaps with a cursed letter of some sort); then again, aunt Vega had always tended to tragically underestimate her. Uncle Alphard would have looked admirative and resigned himself; her father, Cepheus, would have tried to dissuade her, and, when everything else failed, Stupefied her and brought her back home under constant house-elf watch, until she came to her senses.
Mother wouldn’t have known how to go to the Muggle world if it had been as simple as opening the front door and walking in the street, and Uncle Deneb likely wouldn’t have understood he was being threatened. Regulus would have tried not to stammer, not quite managed, taken five seconds to consider his choices, and sensibly capitulated, carrying a grudge during the whole process (and possibly disposing of her as soon as convenient, if she was right about his future development, but he was fourteen, so it was still hard to judge. Besides, she wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to coldly kill a member of the family).
As for Sirius, favourite cousin of hers... Coming with friends would be out of the question; it was clearly a family matter and Sirius had never liked dragging his friends into The Black Matter, he called it with a grimace. And despite what was widely assumed, he had enough sense to stop short from cursing her in plain view (not the least because he knew she could perfectly well defend herself).
Did she really need to finish the thought, she wondered? Andromeda had long known them. To her, drawing a parallel between Bellatrix and Sirius was as far from a revelation as possible. Certainly they didn’t realise it, but Narcissa, and perhaps Regulus too, certainly did. Maybe that explained why she loved Sirius more than his brother, because he reminded her of Bellatrix? Unless it was the other way around, and she loved Bellatrix better than Narcissa because Bellatrix was so much more like Sirius?
She was only buying time with all those useless digressions she’d already held a thousand times. She was trying to avoid facing the problem at hand.
Bellatrix was reading the contract too closely, Andromeda anxiously thought. One doesn’t pay that much attention to something one cannot change, does one?
Finally she couldn’t hold herself back. “Don’t bother to read it.” You’ll only hurt yourself. “I told you there’s nothing to negotiate.”
“Right, so when I break a clause without knowing it you can claim and inherit my rank as the oldest child, too?”
After a long time, Bellatrix looked up at last.
“Well, I can’t sign it anyway, can I? I have no quill!” Her voice sounded thick and rough. With tears?
“You may use the pen. Ted modified it for me,” Andromeda sweetly provided.
Once again, Bellatrix pretended she hadn’t heard the last part: it was the only way she’d pick it up. She was already at the last page, where Andromeda had marked today’s date.
(She’d hesitated about it. She’d first thought about writing yesterday’s. Because if you put today’s then when she Apparates back she’ll still have time to pull strings and reduce your careful plans to ashes and then pretend it’s been done in the morning, when the contract wasn’t ratified yet, when in fact she didn’t even know about it and you’ll be fucked... Then she’d decided against it, reluctantly, because Bellatrix was a Black and she was a Black and no pure-blood and especially no Black would knowingly break a blood contract, particularly a blood contract that tightens the blood bounds that exist already, between relatives, between sisters... Andromeda had cursed herself upon realising she’d already taken her decision, but she was a Black. Besides, she might still need to ask Bellatrix a favour one day, and on that day it would be better if her sister only remembered her as a real Black, one that didn’t play by the rules, that didn’t play at all, but who trusted the family honour. The sad thing was, Andromeda really did, when it was Bellatrix’s.)
Bellatrix signed.
A small, surprised cry escaped her lips when her signature cut on the back of the hand, writing itself in blood on the contract.
Wordlessly, Andromeda added her own name next to her sister’s; for the first time since the beginning of the afternoon, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking, and, dropping all pretence at casualty, she stuffed it in her bag at once, as if to protect it, as if Bellatrix would throw herself at it to tear it into pieces.
Though she was telling herself she didn’t care, that the important thing was to keep the contract, and thus Ted and herself, safe, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed when she met Bellatrix’s coldly contemptuous look.
There was a bad taste in her mouth, something bitter like overdone tea.
“I suppose the both of you are going to have a good laugh tonight.” Bella's tone was full of something like detached hatred. “Tell your boyfriend he's got the worst end out of the deal. One day, he'll get his.”
Andromeda sighed.
“If it's a threat, it's not–”
Bellatrix cut her. “I'm not threatening anyone. But if he thinks you won't betray him just like you betrayed me – us – simply because you love him today, then he's more foolish than I gave him credit for.”
The older girl looked at her sister.
“He'd better enjoy it while he still can. I can't see you staying honest for long.” She sneered. “But I expect it'd be too much to ask that he took my story for the warning it really is.”
Andromeda wondered what hurt more, that Bellatrix considered her as a living lie or that she was actually right.
She didn't intend to tell Ted of the blackmail; Andromeda looked away to avoid meeting Bella's gaze, who suddenly seemed to know and guess too much, after years of Andromeda judging her as the less competent in terms of empathy.
The bitterness turned sour when Andromeda wondered whether it was blackmailing her sister or hiding it from Ted that was really the greatest treason.
finis
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Andromeda Black
Prompt: 039 - Taste
Word Count: 4’400
Rating: PG-13
‘The last thing, this is the greatest treason,
To do the right thing for the wrong reason.’
- T. S. Eliot
The jukebox was playing a Simon and Garfunkel song and Andromeda was trying to hum along. She wasn’t so used to the Muggle world for a simple song to lose its otherworldly qualities, though Ted listened to the best music and as such she did too, fancying herself pretty educated in this respect when she recognised the occasional tune. The day was a greyish, cold, wet November day, the kind that even she could not pretend she loved. Yet she was filled with a feeling of dark joy. Under the table, she ran her finger along her wand, and a soft smile played on her lips.
She was sitting alone, and no-one was bothering her. The waitress had brought her a cup of hot tea, and had soon forgotten about her, going on her way with a slightly dazed look. Customers’ glances slipped on Andromeda like water on silk. Muggles of all sexes and persuasions were unaware of her presence, and this suited Andromeda just fine, Andromeda who was sitting alone, in a Muggle café.
Andromeda waited for a few minutes for the liquid to infuse before she sipped at her tea, bergamot and cinnamon. It turned out just bitter enough that she wished she hadn't waited quite so long.
She wished that alright.
If Ted knew she was there, he’d wonder about the reason. It was the kind of thing he did a lot (didn't he?). And if he could see her now... Well, who could say what he’d do? (Not her.) Feel concerned, Andromeda tried to discern. She wasn’t very good at guessing Ted’s feelings and reactions. She generally felt very clumsy, very immature, very cruel, and heels over head in love. She couldn’t help but resent him at the thought that if he could see her now, see her face and her eyes and her smile, he’d read there what she was planning. He wouldn’t approve, she felt with a pang of guilt. (Probably wouldn't.)
She pinched her lips. She was a Black, she severely reminded herself. A Black had no business giving in to a man’s expectations or emotional blackmail. Besides, it was what he had asked for, hadn’t he? He known what he was in for, certainly. He could have got himself any nice Muggle or Muggle-born girl if it was what he had wanted, but where would have been the fun in that? (She kept her lips from curling at the thought.) So proper, so decent. So stable. Add two or three equally nice and bland children to the mix, and here you are.
(It would never have been romantic enough. Ted was a sucker for romance, an idealist. And she loved drama as much as the next Black, of course... Romance needn’t end, they agreed. If it ends it's not romance. Perhaps it would one day, but until then, Andromeda would have let herself been put under Cruciatus rather than not make the most of it.)
He was the reason she was doing this.
Because there was no way she’d do it otherwise. She thought it was disgraceful, the lows to which one must resolve oneself in times of guerilla. It didn’t push any of her buttons. At all. This was not about viciousness and cruelty and manipulation and ruthlessness, fine Black traditions that she’d never pretended she didn’t enjoy. It was about...
Andromeda dropped the thought. She hadn’t managed to think out the lie before formulating it, too bad. Now she just had to push it out of her mind without being at all convinced.
She had to be.
Who knew what Bellatrix could have learned? She toyed with the notion of Bellatrix as a skilled Legilimens. Her smile took a disdainful air. For all of Bellatrix’s proficiency at duelling, there were things she’d always been hopeless at. Such as mind games, discretion, diplomacy, subtlety, general lying... Beware of sweeping generalisations, Andromeda.
Arrogance and recklessness. She was no better than Sirius on a bad day.
Well... a little better, she corrected herself, caressing her wand again. She hadn’t come unprepared. It had been more than a handful of months since she and Bellatrix had met in friendly duel, but Bellatrix hadn’t been the only one keeping busy. (Ted, Andromeda reflected, was being surprisingly accepting of his girlfriend’s occupational hobbies.)
She knew Bellatrix was coming as soon as she felt the warning spell go off, triggered by an Apparation close by. Then, when Bellatrix’s hand touched the door, her magical signature flashed before Andromeda’s eyes, immediatly followed by a thrill of excitation.
She entered, as beautiful as she’d ever been, proud and defiant to those casual observers. Andromeda noticed her wet hair, her eyes that narrowed suspiciously when they locked upon her own, her disgust and unease at walking in a room full of Muggles.
People had looked up when she’d come in, but as she sat at Andromeda’s table, she was taken in by the Notice-Me Not spell.
Andromeda smiled. There was something oddly exhilarating with getting cool’n superior on such an obviously disgruntled Bellatrix. Not a November person, Bellatrix.
“Hello, Bellatrix.” How are you on this fine day? Glad you could make with a minimal amount of curses. She cut back on the sarcasm. Her way of dealing with Bellatrix involved not saying half of what she thought, which guaranteed both her continued well-being and her obtaining what she wanted. Certainly telling Bellatrix a piece of her mind would be amusing, but... she had other things on her agenda, things that directly conflicted with the Getting Bellatrix Furious Experience.
Anyway, if the Talking Sense Into Bellatrix part of the plan didn't work, then she'd be provided with the occasion she was waiting for.
“You wanted to meet,” Bellatrix answered. She was holding herself too straight, and she wasn’t quite looking Andromeda in the eyes. Of course, Andromeda acknowledged. She’s ill at ease because she doesn’t want to treat me as a friend, and she can’t be too cold or else it’ll look like as if she’s obeying an order.
It was sad, in a sense, that they’d come so far. Andromeda permitted herself to take two seconds to wallow in regrets and self-pity (tssk. Such a shame...) then moved on. She promised herself there would be more time, later.
“Indeed.” She nodded, not smiling anymore. Then she scrutinised Bellatrix, looking for tell-tales details, shadows under the eyes, hair in disarray, ugly clothes. There was, strictly speaking, none.
“You look good,” she finally said.
“Was that why you wanted to see me? To say engagement agrees with me?” There was impatience there, but also something that could be hurt, and anger.
Andromeda gave her half a smile. “No, but it’s a plus.”
Bellatrix bristled. She did look good, with cheeks flushed and hair shining and things Andromeda would never have worn outside the house and certainly not where Ted could see her. (Badly cut and unfeminine. And the worst was that they were flattering on Bellatrix, who looked all the more womanly in wizard-like clothes.) She didn’t say anything, and in fact didn’t even look at Andromeda, who felt a rush of tenderness toward her. Sweet darling Bella. So straight-forward, so violent.
Had she been having this conversation with Narcissa, her younger sister would have said she was sorry she couldn’t reciprocate the compliment, and she’d have made a point to stop at all the places of interest – Andromeda’s messy hair, the hem that had come undone, the scratch that must have escaped her Concealing Charms, and Andromeda would have felt annoyed and vulnerable – Narcissa who couldn’t understand desire, Ted and herself and their own voracity, and especially her chronic inability to – well.
Right. Bellatrix.
“Straight to the point, then.” She nodded. “So, what have you been doing since we last saw each other?” Her manner was the lightest she could make it, and at the same time conveyed the distinct impression that she was asking her final question.
Bellatrix shot her an incredulous look. “I don’t believe it. You made me come to a Muggle pub to ask me that?” As if this was the greatest treason of all.
Poor Bella. So straight-forward, so candid.
And then, just as if Bellatrix had turned a switch, Andromeda’s demeanour changed. Her smile vanished and was replaced with an icy look.
“Actually, I did.”
As she put on a stack of papers on the table, she couldn’t keep from glaring at her sister.
“What did you do since we last saw each other?”
Each word lashed as a whip. Bellatrix’s eyes widened.
“Andromeda, I truly don’t see what you mean...” She sounded sincere, which suggested she really had no idea what could put Andromeda in such a mood. She’d been so astonished by the reaction that she hadn’t even retained her distant composure.
For another fleeting instant, Andromeda wished it was just a matter of Bellatrix failing to tell her she’d taken to date someone else, or that she’d been unofficially offered an apprenticeship at Hogwarts. Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend Andromeda had just been abroad for a few months and Bellatrix had been, as usual, rather sparse with her owls? She could have joyfully exploded with fury, then, and she’d have done so with stylish gusto and occasional hexes and threats of Unforgivables if ever Bellatrix dared to pull one of these again.
She briefly closed her eyes. Not today, not today, she pleaded. Her control couldn’t desert her now. Explosions would be all too litteral, and threats of Unforgivables would at once materialise into real Unforgivables that they’d throw at each other.
“I’ve been doing nothing special, okay?” Bellatrix added in an irritated tone.
“Do you think,” Andromeda evenly whispered, “that Narcissa would confirm that?”
Here was the reaction she’d hoped to get. Frozing, paling, then understanding dawning and Bellatrix looking for a culprit, for the traitor who had told on her.
It would have been funny, once, to see that expression and known one was the one who had caused it, to stab her in the back. It would have all been a game. Then Andromeda had grown and become a traitor in her family’s eyes – oh Bellatrix – without ever deserving it. And now that look was the most revolting thing Andromeda had ever seen.
“The little shit,” Bellatrix muttered between gritted teeth.
Andromeda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “She was not my information source.” Honestly. Why would Cissy have admitted to know such things? If ever there had been a drop of sense in the Black blood, it was running through Narcissa’s veins. And more importantly, why would Andromeda have revealed who had provided her with this news?
Now it was Bellatrix’s turn to glare at her. “And I suppose now you’re going to lecture me on how evil it is, right? That I should kneel before Dumbledore and find myself a nice Mudblood to settle down with, just like you did?”
“Oh, please.” I don’t give a rat’s arse about your compromising yourself as a Death Eater, you utter fool.
“Or about how awful of me it is to corrupt ickle Regulus into following into my footsteps?” Bellatrix gave a decent attempt at a sneer.
Hecate. I should hope you’re only trying to taunt me, what with him being fourteen and all. I do try to keep track of the family birthdays, you know, may I be part of it or disowned.
“Will you stop for one minute and listen to me?” Andromeda snapped. “I haven’t come here to try and reason you.” I’ve long known it’s simply impossible. “And I can’t care less about the way you choose to spend your time.” If you had to earn a living, you probably wouldn’t be wasting it so spectacularly, but as long as Ted and I don’t run into you when we’re working I can’t say your hobbies matter to me. “I’m here to tell you something quite, quite simple.”
In a word, to threaten you, blackmail you in the foulest, most ignominious fashion, and get a result. At any cost. All’s fair in love and war, as Muggles say. And Blacks were no Muggles, which she conveniently pushed from her mind.
Bellatrix was the first to look down.
“Well, do so, then.” She probably aimed for mocking, but she just achieved subdued.
Andromeda sighed. This was going to sound melodramatic no matter what she said; she had spent enough time trying to figure a way to put it to be aware of that. “Can’t you just drop the enmity and blindness for five minutes, Bella?” She was feeling tired, so tired... Couldn’t she indeed, when Andromeda was going to act every drop the bloodtraitor. “I know what you think about me, and frankly I don’t give a damn about it.” Except those times when she cried because she could not talk with her sisters, or kiss them, or laugh with them, or even be angry at each other and send curses flying...
“Thing is, it doesn’t matter whether you regard me to be a bloodtraitor or not, because anyway it’s not something you can erase with a flick of your wand as you may burn a name from a tapestry.” Andromeda paused. Bellatrix was stubbornly staring at the stack of paper. “And the same way I’m your blood, Ted is mine.” Bellatrix made a sudden move, but she didn’t say anything. “Well, you wouldn’t hurt Narcissa’s husband, when she marries, would you?... You can’t hurt the blood.”
“You aren’t married,” Bellatrix whispered. Her teeth were gritted, and yet she sounded unsure. Have you paid so little attention to me that you don’t even know if we’re married or not? Bellatrix. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, or am I another category altogether? What would be your answer, were I to ask you?
“I’ve performed enough Blood Rituals to make him more of a Black than our own mother,” Andromeda assured. Blood is blood, Black is Black.
“Was that why you came, then? To ask for my protection?” Bellatrix smiled haughtily.
“Let’s not forget our place, shall we? I told you to meet me here, and you did.” She seemed to consider this for a moment then blithely went on. “Anyway, who cares about that?” Except for the fact it points to the dominant position, of course. “You just can’t ignore that.”
No, she can’t, can she? It’s not done. She can’t pretend it isn’t there anymore than I can.
“You know,” Bellatrix suddenly started, “you never truly fit in. You were always a... a reject. A misfit. Even when you were in Slytherin, even when you were part of the clan, it never felt completely genuine. And before that, too. When it was just the five of us, and before Regulus was old enough too. I can remember then. When we were just the three sisters and Sirius was only a loud toddler. Not that he changed all that much since,” she added, “but... Yes.
“There was always something wrong. You wouldn’t laugh quite at the right things, you would get impatient during Father’s speeches. You would argue with Ravenclaws and discuss with Hufflepuffs and speak with Gryffindors. And as for your behaviour in Slytherin...” Bellatrix derisively snorted. “Never proven, of course, but some suspicions are almost proofs in themselves. I heard that Slytherin and Gryffindor were closely competing for the Quidditch Cup during your seventh year. Wasn’t it that Jorkins girl who was ‘the Gryffindor broom’?”
Andromeda was paralysed, eyes wide, willing her ears to go deaf and somehow not managing to keep her sister’s treacherous words from cutting into her as a thousand white-cold knives. Shut up, she wanted to shout, stopitstopitstopit, you know it’s not true, you don’t really believe it, the five of us were laughing, the five of us wanted to be out and play together, none of us cared the slightest bit about grown-ups business... And there were purebloods in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and Gryffindor too, it wasn’t about Houses then, it wasn’t about societal constructions.You never were about them. Remember how Father used to scorn them, saying they divided the true pure-blood society? And I was always a true Slytherin, more of a Slytherin than you, Bellatrix, with your hot-headed rashness... Have you forgotten when I made Hufflepuff lose a hundred of points, when I managed to blame all of the stupid things you did on that Gryffindor and she had the detentions, when I messed with the Ravenclaws subject exams?
And don’t say that, don’t say it, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin, you have no right, you don’t know what you’re talking about... (Evan and Brutus and Solis) and You’re lying, you don’t know about them, nobody knew, (Lucius and Marlene and Kingsley and Sirius and Rita and Benjy and and and...) and surely you don’t know about them and nobody does, sometimes I’m not even sure I do and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to learn they don’t remember after all, and anyway they weren’t all Slytherins... and I was nothing like Bertha. Was I?
Bellatrix’s eyes were glittering with malice. “I’d never have thought I’d see you lower yourself to begging me, Andromeda... Is your Mudblood making it worth it to you, I wonder?” She insistantly looked at Andromeda’s neck, where it joined the shoulder, where Andromeda’s low V-neck left a kiss mark in plain view, she knew. Andromeda watched her sister with fascinated eyes and slightly parted lips. Bellatrix’s own lips curled into a savage smile.
“Or does he have you co completely under his control that he only needs to order for you to drag all of our pure traditions in the mud of his blood?”
Andromeda snapped from her fascination and shook herself. Ted her master? How completely ludicrous.
Besides, Bella’s formulation was melodramatic enough to deserve a stare of its own.
“It’s not exactly your business, now is it?” Andromeda inquired. “Now, let’s get this done.” She pulled a pen from her bag, unscrewed it and put it in front of Bellatrix, on top of the papers she’d pushed toward her. Her sister eyed the Muggle device as if it was a particularly disgusting Flobberworm which had crawled into her lap.
“How about I buy you a coffee while you read it?” Andromeda’s voice was dripping with sweet venom. Bellatrix, of course, ignored her proposition in favour of the parchments. They were covered in Andromeda’s spiky, sharp handwriting, spelling equally sharp conditions.
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, her lips thinned and a hiss escaped them. “That’s...”
Blackmail, Andromeda acknowledged. She was stirring her spoon into her teacup to keep her hands occupied.
Across the table, Bellatrix had stopped ruffling through the sheets. Andromeda didn’t dare looking up.
“I am not recognising you as my legal Black heir.” Bellatrix’s tone was vibrating with suppressed indignation.
“It’s not up to discussion.”
A shiver made its way along her spine as the hatred in her sister’s eyes fired through her. She had to stay calm, she reminded herself. After all, if she looked unsure of herself, then Bellatrix might realise Andromeda couldn’t do much if she called her bluff. Denounce her to the Ministry? Andromeda didn’t doubt it was up to the Minister in corruption. Surely there must be Death Eaters in every Department. Even if Andromeda reported her to Dumbledore, Hecate forbid, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe Bellatrix wouldn’t have told her fellow Death Eaters of the predicament she was in. Andromeda Black would become a prime target among the prime targets, and for someone so intent on neutrality as she was, it would be a rather spectacular waste of good planning.
Things would have been different with Narcissa, who’d probably have noticed already the weakness in Andromeda’s scheme, but would have agreed all the same, because Narcissa wouldn’t have cared for risking her social place, and because she recognised Andromeda’s superiority whenever Machiavellian plots were concerned. On the other hand, Narcissa wouldn’t have become a Death Eater before Voldemort’s lording over the wizarding world was as good as achieved.
Aunt Vega, for instance, wouldn’t even have deigned to come, or reply at all (except perhaps with a cursed letter of some sort); then again, aunt Vega had always tended to tragically underestimate her. Uncle Alphard would have looked admirative and resigned himself; her father, Cepheus, would have tried to dissuade her, and, when everything else failed, Stupefied her and brought her back home under constant house-elf watch, until she came to her senses.
Mother wouldn’t have known how to go to the Muggle world if it had been as simple as opening the front door and walking in the street, and Uncle Deneb likely wouldn’t have understood he was being threatened. Regulus would have tried not to stammer, not quite managed, taken five seconds to consider his choices, and sensibly capitulated, carrying a grudge during the whole process (and possibly disposing of her as soon as convenient, if she was right about his future development, but he was fourteen, so it was still hard to judge. Besides, she wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to coldly kill a member of the family).
As for Sirius, favourite cousin of hers... Coming with friends would be out of the question; it was clearly a family matter and Sirius had never liked dragging his friends into The Black Matter, he called it with a grimace. And despite what was widely assumed, he had enough sense to stop short from cursing her in plain view (not the least because he knew she could perfectly well defend herself).
Did she really need to finish the thought, she wondered? Andromeda had long known them. To her, drawing a parallel between Bellatrix and Sirius was as far from a revelation as possible. Certainly they didn’t realise it, but Narcissa, and perhaps Regulus too, certainly did. Maybe that explained why she loved Sirius more than his brother, because he reminded her of Bellatrix? Unless it was the other way around, and she loved Bellatrix better than Narcissa because Bellatrix was so much more like Sirius?
She was only buying time with all those useless digressions she’d already held a thousand times. She was trying to avoid facing the problem at hand.
Bellatrix was reading the contract too closely, Andromeda anxiously thought. One doesn’t pay that much attention to something one cannot change, does one?
Finally she couldn’t hold herself back. “Don’t bother to read it.” You’ll only hurt yourself. “I told you there’s nothing to negotiate.”
“Right, so when I break a clause without knowing it you can claim and inherit my rank as the oldest child, too?”
After a long time, Bellatrix looked up at last.
“Well, I can’t sign it anyway, can I? I have no quill!” Her voice sounded thick and rough. With tears?
“You may use the pen. Ted modified it for me,” Andromeda sweetly provided.
Once again, Bellatrix pretended she hadn’t heard the last part: it was the only way she’d pick it up. She was already at the last page, where Andromeda had marked today’s date.
(She’d hesitated about it. She’d first thought about writing yesterday’s. Because if you put today’s then when she Apparates back she’ll still have time to pull strings and reduce your careful plans to ashes and then pretend it’s been done in the morning, when the contract wasn’t ratified yet, when in fact she didn’t even know about it and you’ll be fucked... Then she’d decided against it, reluctantly, because Bellatrix was a Black and she was a Black and no pure-blood and especially no Black would knowingly break a blood contract, particularly a blood contract that tightens the blood bounds that exist already, between relatives, between sisters... Andromeda had cursed herself upon realising she’d already taken her decision, but she was a Black. Besides, she might still need to ask Bellatrix a favour one day, and on that day it would be better if her sister only remembered her as a real Black, one that didn’t play by the rules, that didn’t play at all, but who trusted the family honour. The sad thing was, Andromeda really did, when it was Bellatrix’s.)
Bellatrix signed.
A small, surprised cry escaped her lips when her signature cut on the back of the hand, writing itself in blood on the contract.
Wordlessly, Andromeda added her own name next to her sister’s; for the first time since the beginning of the afternoon, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking, and, dropping all pretence at casualty, she stuffed it in her bag at once, as if to protect it, as if Bellatrix would throw herself at it to tear it into pieces.
Though she was telling herself she didn’t care, that the important thing was to keep the contract, and thus Ted and herself, safe, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed when she met Bellatrix’s coldly contemptuous look.
There was a bad taste in her mouth, something bitter like overdone tea.
“I suppose the both of you are going to have a good laugh tonight.” Bella's tone was full of something like detached hatred. “Tell your boyfriend he's got the worst end out of the deal. One day, he'll get his.”
Andromeda sighed.
“If it's a threat, it's not–”
Bellatrix cut her. “I'm not threatening anyone. But if he thinks you won't betray him just like you betrayed me – us – simply because you love him today, then he's more foolish than I gave him credit for.”
The older girl looked at her sister.
“He'd better enjoy it while he still can. I can't see you staying honest for long.” She sneered. “But I expect it'd be too much to ask that he took my story for the warning it really is.”
Andromeda wondered what hurt more, that Bellatrix considered her as a living lie or that she was actually right.
She didn't intend to tell Ted of the blackmail; Andromeda looked away to avoid meeting Bella's gaze, who suddenly seemed to know and guess too much, after years of Andromeda judging her as the less competent in terms of empathy.
The bitterness turned sour when Andromeda wondered whether it was blackmailing her sister or hiding it from Ted that was really the greatest treason.
finis
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Date: 2006-01-19 04:37 pm (UTC)As a note, I had to take a break from beta-ing because of some family issues and then classes but I'm hoping to get it back to you this weekend.
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Date: 2006-01-20 02:17 pm (UTC)Ah well, that means someday I can post the fun part. (a Victorian AU that is somehow a pendant to this fic...)
And don't worry, I completely understand that you have other things in life than beta-ing the Bad Fic. <- says the girl with a short-attention span. There's no rush, don't lose sleep over it!