Symphony | Andromeda Black

The Funeral

When they laid their father out properly, he looked even scarier. They put rouge on his cheeks and put him in his best black dress robes and shoes, and combed out his hair so that the long grey streaks were visible, which he would have hated. His hands were folded across his chest, and his mouth was slightly open, false teeth fixed properly.

Walburga had insisted that he be laid out in Grimmauld Place, his own family home. Andromeda didn't know if her mother had argued or not, but that was where it happened, his velvet lined coffin in the middle of the drawing room while Andromeda and Narcissa looked at the tapestry. New golden words had appeared, his death date, but Andromeda gaped at his date of birth. It had always been here and she had read it many times, but somehow it had never mattered to her how old her father was, and he certainly wouldn't have told her. He was nineteen years older than Druella, fifty three to her thirty four, and his birthday, which she had never known, was on the third of June.

Narcissa gaped at it. "Father was old," she said at last.

"Older than most of them," Andromeda said softly, looking to the rest of the family tree. Blacks seemed to have a short lifespan, most of them not living past forty. She looked at the stern face of her father and felt guilt churn in her stomach. She was sure she should cry, sure she should mourn him more than she was. Narcissa was like a tap, weeping constantly, which made her feel guilty because Cygnus had always been awful to her younger sister, ranting about her being stupid and lazy until she was in tears, and yet Andromeda has gotten along with him the best, and she couldn't muster even a sob.

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At the burial, she was shocked to see people she never would have expected. Miss Travers was there, still thin and disapproving, and there was a wreath of flowers from Hogwarts. Andromeda couldn't help but wonder about her aunt, Cygnus' sister who had been disowned. She probably didn't even know he had died. She imagined that, being disowned, not even knowing that Bellatrix or Narcissa were gone, and shivered, thankful it wouldn't happen.

Glenda's parents had come, and shook hands with Druella, who barely seemed to notice them. But Grandmother Rosier, who was a social leech, invited them to the house for the meal. Narcissa still had to sit with the children out in the hall, where Sirius was being noisy, at least until Orion went out and gave him a slap, and there was silence.

Bellatrix had locked herself in her room and refused to come out, and though Grandfather had hissed she was letting the family down, they could do nothing. Bellatrix had the Dark Lord on her side now, and nobody would risk forcing her to do anything. Andromeda didn't talk much, just ate, ate her salad, her roast beef and her pavlova, the sugary sweetness of which lingered in her mouth and made her stomach lurch.

Andromeda excused herself quickly and went to the bathroom where she was sick, then washed her mouth out, shaking violently as she sat on the toilet seat. The light was too bright, too aggressive on her eyes, and she drew her knees to her chest, burying her face in them. She wanted to fall asleep, wake up and realize it was a dream, a horrible nightmare.......

Andromeda started as she heard the door handle turn. She'd forgotten to lock the bathroom door. It opened quickly, Glenda's mother, Claudia, standing there.

"Andromeda?" She asked, gazing at her pale face, how she was shaking. "Have you been sick? Oh you poor thing."

She helped clean Andromeda up, who felt useless because at fourteen she shouldn't have been treated like this, like a baby. She had never been treated like a baby.

When she was finished, Claudia gave her a hug. She was a plump lady, and she was warm, smelling of musky perfume, and Andromeda couldn't help but cry.