It's not easy to erase your blood.
Who: Andromeda Black and the rest of the Black Family
When: First day of summer, 1971.
What: ...
Where: Home.

The last school year had been utter and absolute bliss. Without Bellatrix, she hadn't needed to be so careful with Ted, she hadn't needed to pussyfoot around and make sure that all of their conversations ended in her screaming something at him. It had been nice. They hadn't been snogging in public or anything vulgar like that -- there were limits to what even the other Slytherin girls (who fully admitted to 'experimenting with muggles', whatever that meant) would tolerate in the public eye.

She was sure that nobody would tattle, at least. Narcissa was barely old enough to understand what they might even be doing, that was -- there was no real risk. She'd spent the first few months of the school year completely paranoid that Bellatrix had somehow bugged her trunk, but as time went on she relaxed more and more. Coming home on the train had been ... difficult, but at least this year Ted had the understanding that she couldn't owl him, and even though it would be a painful few months, she wouldn't have to worry about him thinking she'd moved on or dumped him or something equally as cruel.

The floo home was as quiet as it usually was, but when she arrived and no house-elves even made eye contact with her ... Andromeda knew something was amiss. She furrowed her brows, brushing off her robes and hefting her trunk up with a levitation spell so that she could walk toward her room. As the smell of something rancid and sour filled her nostrils, she sped up her steps. As she turned the corner to her room, blue-silver tendrils of smoke curled out from under the door.

"What--" She let out a gasp as a stunning spell grazed off her shoulder, mouth open in shock. Bellatrix, looking much less ... together than she had the year before, loomed over her as she leaned back against the wall.

Oh, this was wonderful.

"Did you really think," Bellatrix sneered, "That you could hide your disgusting little infatuation for this long?" She spit at her sister's feet. "You should know by now that muggle stench doesn't come off. I am only glad that dear Cissy had the good sense to address her concerns to her elders." Andromeda felt her heart drop into her stomach.

No, it wasn't supposed to be like this... she was supposed to be the one in control of this happening...

"Shut up," Andromeda snapped, pushing herself to her feet and drawing her wand (oh, she was going to be in such trouble for this) against her sister, "Just because nobody wants to shove anything up that dusty snatch of yours doesn't mean you have to be so jealous, Bellatrix." The hallway was starting to fill with smoke, and finally the house elves seemed to take notice.

They stood there with their wands pointed at each other for a long time, neither of them taking eyes off each other. The way Bellatrix glared at her as if she had the plague was ... it hurt, even if she'd known this was coming. It was their mother, looking quite irate (moreso than usual, even), who unceremoniously snatched up both the girls by their wrists.

"Enough, Bellatrix," she growled low in her throat, releasing her daughter's wrist and keeping hold of Andromeda's, so that she might put out the fire Bellatrix had started in the younger girl's room, "you mustn't burn the house down over this, dear." She gave Andromeda's wrist a painful squeeze and pushed her back into the scorched room, turning up her nose and not deeming her fit for even a look.

She stumbled back into the room, all burnt ash and blackness. Most of her belongings were ruined and the smell of the room was almost unbearable. She coughed hard, slamming the door shut behind herself after managing to drag the trunk inside. Through the smog, she managed to open the nearest window and tossed her trunk out of it, disturbingly pleased with the loud smash it made as it landed atop one of the lawn ornaments.

It was somewhat fitting, she thought, that most of her things were a pile of dust - just like her place on the family tapestry. Andromeda clambered down the side of the building as she had done so many times, knees and hand smeared with soot and eyes filled with tears.

It was one thing to hate your family, but to have them really hate you to the point where you might as well have been dead? That stung.