Symphony | Andromeda Black

Plantations

Druella lead them into the dining room, somewhere Andromeda had very rarely set foot in, and only on special occasions.

"But Lacrimosa and Glenda aren't thirteen yet, Mother," Andromeda said in surprise.

"It hardly matters," she said, so they all sat at the table, poor Narcissa being left on her own at the children's table. Andromeda had often wondered about the adult's table, but now she was sitting at it for the first time, she wondered why she had wanted to get to it so badly.

Things were silent except for Druella's attempts at making conversation. Cygnus ate quickly and said very little, though his wife glared at him. Bellatrix was completely silent and was clearly itching to leave the table, though they had a strict rule that nobody was allowed to get up until everybody was finished.

"Why wasn't Narcissa allowed to sit with us?" Glenda asked, when they were upstairs.

Andromeda shrugged. "We're allowed to sit at the adult table once we turn thirteen, and she's only eleven."

"Oh," she said. "All right, then."

They played chess for a while, but it wasn't the same. Even Glenda seemed more half hearted now. The contrast between their bedrooms couldn't have been more stark – where Glenda's had been cluttered and full of her things, Andromeda's was kept neat and tidy, mostly by house elves. She had few possessions, only her clothes, which were tucked away in the wardrobe, and her school things and drawing equipment. The only furniture was the heavy oak wardrobe, a small mirror, a night stand and two beds. A smaller one had been brought in and made up, and though it was still early, they changed and got ready for bed because there seemed little else to do. Lacrimosa took nail polish out of her trunk and they took turns painting each other's nails, but Andromeda was jumpy and worried that it would spill and stain the immaculate carpet or the bedspreads. Things got a little bit better when Narcissa came and joined in, and even Bellatrix came in eventually, and went to fetch her makeup bag when Narcissa begged her to do her make up.

"You can't ever tell Mother," she said severely. "Any of you."

They promised they wouldn't, and she took out all manner of things. Many were the sort she had seen on her rare visits to her mother's bedroom, thin pencils, bright lipstick, face powder. Andromeda wasn't sure she wanted to be made up, but Bellatrix told her to lighten up. First she did the promised makeover on Narcissa, who, as a complete girly girl, was practically jumping around the room. They all watched closely until she was finished. Andromeda wasn't sure she liked the end result. Narcissa looked older, more polished, like some kind of minature version of their mother.

"Here, I'll do Glenda now," Bellatrix said, and went to fetch something from her bag, Andromeda following her.

"How did you learn how to do all this stuff?"

"Girls at school."

Andromeda risked a peek at Lacrimosa, but she was busy painting Narcissa's nails.

"Where did you get the money?" She whispered. "Honestly, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix opened a tube of something scarily orange. "I've got a job, I said."

"But what?"

"It doesn't matter."

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Lacrimosa and Glenda were staying for three days, leaving on Boxing Day morning. Andromeda was sure she was horrible for feeling relieved that they were going soon, but the house felt strange and alien while they were here. It had felt before like she had two different lives and two different personas, Hogwarts Andromeda and Home Andromeda. Home Andromeda was a lot more nervous and flitting than her Hogwarts counterpart, and even Narcissa told her she was being strange.

At Christmas dinner itself, there were the usual guests with Narcissa and the other children out in the hallway. Glenda kept shooting Cygnus wary looks, like she was worried he was going to take out the cane there and then. Andromeda felt sick and ate little, but thankfully there was no unexpected visitor. What there were, however, were constant questions for Lacrimosa, syrupy sweet voices enquiring about her mother and her late father, but the syrup sounded sharp, and they rarely listened to the stammered answers. Druella was very pink in the cheeks, her voice a little too loud, her laughter a little too high. Andromeda's grandmother kept glaring at her, and her grandfather was staring at Glenda.

"I don't believe I know this child," he said. He had a powerful way of speaking over other people that immediately made everybody else be quiet. Even Druella shut her mouth and refilled her glass, her hand shaking a little, glaring at Cygnus as he hissed something to her.

"I'm Glenda, Mr Black," Glenda said, her voice shaking a little. "Glenda Viljoen."

"Oh, you're foreign," he said, and the entire table seemed to relax. Glenda blushed, but didn't say anything else. Andromeda's grandfather's eyes were the Rosier eyes, striking, handsome and cornflower blue and only slightly faded with age. They stared right at her.

"Pureblood?" He said slowly, and he took a cigar from the case in his pocket. His wife glared at him; smoking was usually not permitted at the table, and certainly not for women. It was, however, acceptable if you were Sebastian Rosier.

"Yes sir."

"Old money?"

Andromeda looked down into her dinner, blushing hard. She didn't think Glenda's family were rich. Her schoolbooks, though taken care of, were clearly mostly second hand, and even the dress robes she wore weren't at all similar to the fine cloth of Lacrimosa and Andromeda's. But thankfully she knew what to answer, as Sebastian lit his cigar with his wand.

"Yes sir. My grandfather owns a plantation."

He laughed so blue smoke shot out of the cigar in a cloud. "A black owning a plantation! Well well well, things do change."

Andromeda wanted to die. She wanted a deep dark hole to open underneath her and suck her into into it, never to be seen again.

Glenda said nothing more, but when dinner was finished and they were excused, Andromeda did her best to apologise.

"I'm so sorry," she said miserably, when they sat on the stairs. "He's just – he's old fashioned, and –"

"It's all right, Andy," she said softly. "We're pretty much used to it. People are racist."

Andromeda looked at the carpet. "I know you wanted it to be fun," she said quietly. "This is why I didn't want you to come. My family....you were right before. We're a joke."

Glenda shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I was just....angry with you. They're your family. I've got an uncle who's in and out of prison all the time. We can't help who we're related to."

"Right," Andromeda said gratefully, and she gave Glenda a quick hug.