Symphony | Andromeda Black

Augustus

Bellatrix went back to school for her second year in September, and the gloom was truly marked by Miss Travers' return.

Andromeda was getting old enough to realise, and especially as she turned ten in October, than Miss Travers' lessons were of very little use to her now. They still benefited Narcissa, but for Andromeda, who had been doing the same multiplication sums every day for two years now, she was getting tired of it. It didn't help matters that their teacher repeatedly made mistakes. She didn't appreciate being corrected, however, because upon being told that she had done several of the sums wrong on the board she had turned red and called Andromeda a stupid little girl, and caned her.

She had thought her father would have agreed with the teacher, but upon being told what she had been caned for, he smiled. "Is that all, Andromeda? You corrected the teacher?"

"Yes Father," she whispered, bewildered as to why he was smiling. "It's getting tiresome doing the same sums all the time anyway."

"I'll tell you what, then," he said. "How about I take you for mathematic lessons as well as our blood purity ones?"

"I'd....like that, Father."

"Hm," he said, and he looked pleased. "What else do you enjoy doing?"

"I like....reading. And art."

His face tightened at the mention of art, but he just shrugged. "What about your piano?"

"Oh yes," she said quickly. "I love piano, too. Aunt Walburga says I am coming along well."

In actual fact, Walburga had said she was tone deaf, but there was no need for her father to know that. When he spoke again, his voice was casual.

"Tell me, Andromeda, what you think of Mr Fawley? Are you interested in his art?"

"I don't really like him, Father," she said quickly, knowing what answer he'd like. "Or his art, really."

"Your mother seems to like him very much," his long fingers toyed with his wands. "You should have heard her at the dinner party. Augustus this, and Augustus that...."

Andromeda had never seen her father show so much emotion before. It made her uncomfortable.He looked at her face, and she remembered her tooth too late and closed her mouth quickly, but he peered at her.

"Why do you always clamp your mouth shut like that?"

"I have a snaggletooth," she murmured. "Mother always tells me to hide it."

"Well she had one just like it when I met her first, my girl. At least until she got it shrunk."

Andromeda privately thought he was mad.There was no way her perfect, beautiful mother had ever had so much as a pimple, let alone a bad tooth.

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The portrait had seemed to be at the state it currently was for months. They were told they could stop sitting for it, and they were all glad, but he spent days filling in it with oil paint, each tiny detail. Andromeda didn't actually mind Augustus Fawley. He was all right, if a little too obviously infatuated with Druella, and he always made Narcissa laugh and started bringing them sweets, winking at them when their mother said they'd ruin their teeth. She didn't mind his art either, and liked watching him paint. He was good, and had almost finished Bellatrix, though the others needed more work and only the pencilled outline of Cygnus was visible. She liked drawing too, but she knew she would never be as good as he was. She kept her pencils in the homemade case Narcissa had given her for her birthday. It was lumpy and misshapen, but she had worked hard on it, so Andromeda loved it anyway.

Her liking for Augustus was cemented when he learned that the week before had been her birthday. He gave her a sketchpad as a present, a proper one with soft white pages.

"Oh Augustus!" Druella said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "It looks terribly expensive. She'll ruin it."

"Nonsense," he said. "It's an old one, and she told me she likes to sketch."

Druella looked as surprised as if he had just told her her daughter liked to dance naked in the garden. "Do you really, Andromeda?"

She blushed. "Well, not proper sketching."

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Cygnus grew more irate when they were all singing his praises, even Narcissa. He was sullen and closed himself off in his study, professing to have begun writing a book about blood purity. One dark night just before Halloween, he and Druella had another argument.

When Andromeda went into the drawing room, she saw Druella sprawled on the chaise longue, alone. She didn't look as elegant as normal. Her blonde hair was messy, her makeup was streaked around her eyes, and she was drinking something red. She looked almost as young as Narcissa, too young to be a mother.

"What do you want, Andromeda?" She asked in a tired voice. "Mother's sleepy."

Andromeda wondered if she was drunk. Her parents didn't usually drink beyond a little tipple in the evenings, but her aunt Persephone always got very giggly and vulgar at Christmas.

Andromeda hesitated, but then she decided to take her chance.

"Mother, you know....Mr Fawley?"

She took a sip of her drink, except she was still lying down so it split on the white carpet, leaving a vivid red stain.

"Oops," she didn't sound like she minded much, though if it had been any of the girls she would have been furious. The white carpet was her pride and joy. "What about him, darling?"

"Do you love him?"

"Love?" She repeated, sounding surprised. She blinked. "No. Don't be stupid."

Andromeda relaxed. "Oh. Goodnight then, Mother."

She put down her glass and held out her arms. "Give me a hug, Andromeda."

Awkwardly, Andromeda embraced her. She thought she had only ever hugged her mother once or twice before. She was thin and small, and smelled like heavy perfume and face powder. It was more like a brief bump of shoulders than a hug. Druella pulled back very quickly. "Good girl," she said, and she yawned.