The Diviner

Andromeda's sleep was disturbed by violent, tumultuous dreams that she didn't remember until breakfast.

"Last night I dreamt you cut off all your hair," she blurted abruptly, halfway through buttering a piece of toast.

Bellatrix looked up. One hand idly stirred her tea. She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Narcissa smirked slightly. Andromeda felt her face heating up and did her best to school her expression back into blank neutrality. It was her sixteenth birthday. She sat up straighter, reached for the jam.

* * *

Every day after lunch, Bellatrix took a walk in a wide loop around the lake and through the back gardens. Andromeda waited for her by the garden gate.

"I dreamt that you filled the bathtub full of wine," Andromeda said as Bellatrix came up the path from the lake.

Bellatrix unlatched the gate. "You seem quite intent upon sharing your dreams with me," she said. "Have you unexpectedly developed some sort of talent for Divination?" Her dark hair hung loose around her face.

Andromeda clutched at her sister's hand. "Don't be like this, Bella," she said, reverting to the childhood pet-name. "You don't have to be like this with me."

For a moment, Andromeda thought she had won. Then Bellatrix yanked her hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, and continued up the path toward the house. Andromeda kicked at the gravel.

* * *

"You've gained so much weight," Andromeda's mother said, and laced her daughter into an old-fashioned, tightly corseted dress. Andromeda fingered the material. It was hideous: fine silk, but a strikingly ugly shade of pink, and so out of date. Andromeda's grandmother had worn the dress for her own sixteenth birthday; there was a photograph of her on the mantle, gazing regally at the camera as she allowed her picture to be taken.

In the mirror, Andromeda's reflection looked pinched, hastily cobbled together. The whalebone dug into her sides. She breathed in shallow gasps. Her mother's face hovered at her shoulder, a sallow wraith.

Andromeda's mother brushed her hair sharply, tugging at the roots. Andromeda blinked, refusing to let tears form in her eyes. She was plump only in comparison with Narcissa's fragile, stalk-like slenderness, but their mother only saw Andromeda's inadequacies. Andromeda was terrified that she would wake up one morning and see herself the same way her mother did. She thought she would die if that happened.

"You wretched girl, hold still," Andromeda's mother said.

Andromeda did her best. She would have to wear this horrible dress to her birthday party. Narcissa would laugh at her; Bellatrix would look at her in that sly, dryly amused way of hers. The shame of it curdled in Andromeda's stomach. She held still and let her mother fix her hair.

Later, flakes of dried blood fell from her head. She brushed them off into the sink.

* * *

"That dress is atrocious," Bellatrix declared when Andromeda came into the parlor. The table was covered with vases of flowers for the party: lilacs, orchids, irises; no roses, they were far too common. Only the best, even for the least of the Black sisters.

"Mother made me wear it," Andromeda said, and sat down on the couch. She watched Bellatrix carefully altering the flowers, making them paper-thin and turning them into impossible, unearthly colors.

Bellatrix's mouth curled up. "The hag has no taste," she said, expanding the petals of an iris until they were twice the normal size.

Andromeda chewed on her lip. "Bella -"

With an exasperated sigh, Bellatrix dropped her wand on the table and turned to glare at Andromeda. "What is it? You've been bothering me all day. Do you have another dream you'd like to share with me? Some vision of my tormented future?"

Andromeda dropped her gaze to the wretched pink embroidery on her dress: swoops and curls designed to give the subtle suggestion of hearts. She felt Bellatrix's eyes on her, felt her sister grow impatient.

"I miss you," Andromeda said at last, her hard-won control giving way to unseemly honesty.

Bellatrix laughed sharply. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, "I'm obviously right here. What is there to miss?"

"You know what I mean!" Andromeda stood up from the couch, flushed and furious. "Something's changed you; you haven't been the same since -" She reached out, touched Bellatrix's left arm where the staring head was covered by layers of fabric and lace.

"Be quiet," Bellatrix snapped, and shook Andromeda's hand off her arm. "You shouldn't speak of things you don't understand."

Andromeda's knees weakened. She sat back down. "Of course, Bellatrix," she whispered bitterly. "I'm sorry. It's none of my concern."

Bellatrix sat down next to Andromeda. Something in her eyes softened infinitesimally. "You'll know soon enough," she said, a promise or a curse. She touched Andromeda's hair and then kissed her, then again. Andromeda's mouth opened like a sea anemone. Her pulse raced. Bellatrix slid her hand under her sister's dress. Andromeda's head lolled against the back of the couch. Behind her eyelids, she saw the flowers, shrinking and expanding under Bellatrix's wand.

* * *

At the party, Andromeda wore her hideous dress and begged off after three dances, claiming a headache. Her would-be suitors protested just the right amount before abandoning her for Bellatrix. Andromeda sat in a corner and watched them gather around her sister.

Bellatrix glowed under the enchanted lights, full of laughter and flirtation. The small jewels woven into her hair sparkled. The young men circled like vultures.

"Last night I dreamt you discarded all your beauty in despair," Andromeda whispered.

If Bellatrix heard, she gave no indication, just kept dancing - glittering, impervious.