Chapter Seven

Andromeda stared at this missive, outraged. After all the time she had invested in telling herself that she was not interested in getting a letter back, she had at least hoped that the leap of emotion which seeing her owl had produced would either be able to be squashed by anger or, although she would not quite let herself think this, be allowed to grow. Instead, she had this sentence, this question. And she did not know what to do with it. So it made her angry. What right had Ted to go messing with her mind like that? This felt every bit as intrusive as his Confundus Charm.

Because now she was being forced to think. Think about all the things that she had been locking away, and drag every sorry thought and feeling into the light to be considered. First there was the question of her parents and their plans. And then there was Ted and what on earth was to be done about him. And then there was the person she had become, whom even she barely recognised anymore. But most of all, there was the question of whether she was alright. Was she? And if she was, could she continue so? Was there any way of dragging herself out of this mess?

She made a valiant effort to tell herself that she could quite easily bury these things again, but it was a lost cause from the start. She might have changed, but she still had enough of a sense of herself that, having been shocked to life, she was not going to crawl in a hole and hide again. It was time to take Ted’s much resented advice and start using her head.

And some facts had to be faced. Firstly, that whether she liked it or not, her trip to Ted’s had changed her. He had pointed out to her that she could not drift along ignoring what was going on around her forever. One day she would wake up and wonder where on earth she had found herself. Some day, consequences would have to be faced. And it was better that that day was now, while she could still stop and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

Because she did not want to be married off. She had always known this, her flight had conclusively proved it, and yet she had come back home and let herself be caught up again. How could she have done that? With sudden force, it hit her that she had ignored the clearest message her subconscious could possibly have given her. The instinct to run, followed through for a short time, but then abandoned. After that, what else could her mind do but push her back again and again to the window? And in her stubbornness she had very nearly missed the message: open your eyes, and act on what you see.

A sharp knock on her bedroom door broke her line of thought, and without waiting for an answer, the maternal half of the force that had been driving her towards an unwanted life appeared in the doorway.

“Andromeda, I want to talk to you.” The option of refusing was not available. It never was with her mother.

“Yes?”

“After the embarrassment to which you subjected our family, your father and I allowed you some time to recover your common sense. I can only assume-”

“Mother, I hardly think that anyone was much embarrassed, given no one but you and Father and Narcissa even-”

“Andromeda, please remember that you are an adult now and have no excuse for forgetting your manners so much as to not only interrupt me but to do so in order to contradict me.”

“If I am an adult, why do you persist in treating me as though I have no more right or ability to conduct my own life than an infant?”

“Because you persist in behaving in a way more reminiscent of a small child than a young lady.”

“Mother, I-”

“Enough, Andromeda. I came here to talk to you. Upon noting that you appear to have, at least fractionally, regained your senses, your father and I feel that it is time for you to begin again considering your prospects. We gather that there was something unsatisfactory about the previous match, although why you did not voice your objections at the time is beyond me.”

Andromeda pressed her lips together tightly to keep from protesting that the likelihood of her objections being noted was around the region of there being a chance of her mother letting her choose for herself who she married. Practically non-existent.

“Therefore,” her mother continued, “we have reconsidered. There are several other suitable matches for you, and we have selected from amongst them a man in whom we feel you would find no fault.” She paused, clearly waiting for Andromeda to ask questions.

“Mother,” Andromeda said slowly, carefully considering her wording, “although I am grateful that you and Father should take such pains over me, may I ask that this discussion be postponed until tomorrow? I do not feel well this evening.”

Her white face supported her excuse, and Druella Black rose to her feet and surveyed her daughter, who was not looking at her, but out of the window. “Today I will let the subject drop, but we will talk Andromeda.” She left.

Andromeda stayed for some moments perfectly motionless. She saw her future laid out for her in painfully clear plans with which she had no connection. She saw herself losing herself in a way far worse than any which she had suffered as yet. She saw herself growing older, crushed into a person for whom Andromeda Black was just a faint memory, a girl who let her life escape her for too long until it was too late to regain control. And she refused to let that future be her own. Whatever she might face in life, whatever might become of her, that path must surely be the worst one she could ever find herself on.

She looked back at Ted’s letter, at the question he posed. And she knew, with an absolute certainty that she barely recognised after her long months of indifference, that there was a different way. A way to bring him back. A way to bring herself back.

Taking up her pen, she turned over the scrap of parchment he had written on, and surveyed the blank space this gave her. It did not look right. She turned it back, and carefully wrote underneath his message. Giving it to her owl, she watched with eyes well accustomed to scouring the skies as her answer flew to Ted on swift wings.

No.

The end. I don't do neat and tidy endings. However, I am writing a sequel, so I might put that up when it's finished.