Gray Matter

This is a story about Andromeda Black.

When Andromeda Black was a young girl, she worshiped her mother and father and two sisters and pet cat named Geordie. She was a sweetheart of a girl, always smiles and pleasant giggles and pretty bows in her hair. The trouble she got into was for the sort of precious misbehavior that makes for utterly hilarious storytelling, like painting the house-elf with a delicate rainbow-and-clouds pattern with her new set of oils or breaking a heirloom and attempting to blame her swaddling-clothed sister.

This sort of girl makes for a very dull story. The sort of girl who rebels, who breaks away from the tyranny inherent in the system, who does something outrageous or wicked or wild and gets away with it is who a good story should be about.

Andromeda Black became a heroine bound by the society she had been born into at age sixteen, when she laid eyes on the Boy from the Wrong Side of the Tracks, the scruffy miscreant who won her innocent heart, the forbidden fruit that the snakes hissed at whilst the innocent girl struggled with morality and rules and ultimately abandoned everything she had known (Eden) for everything else.

This boy's name was Ted Tonks. It does not matter what "Ted" was short for, nor did it matter that Tonks was a silly name which should be used to describe a clown or some sort of Tinker Toys fanatic. Did, does, will do... Time is subjective for our heroine. Time stopped for her upon setting her glance on the form of her One True Love. Capital letters are used to create extra emphasis and give a sense of a concept being titled or turned into a proper noun.

The trial of our heroine will be to attain her heart's desire despite the disapproval of her family and friends. A happy ending would include a reconciliation between the warring factions, a peace treaty signed with laughter and brought into action with the ceremonial breaking of the maidenhead following an arcane ritual binding souls and devoting lives to eternity. A sad ending would involve heartbreak as the One True Love decided that the curvaceous blonde with the rich daddy who actually liked him was a better choice. The heroine's family, seething from betrayal and from being tossed aside like so much garbage would therefore disown her, forcing her onto the streets, condemned to a life of begging and prostitution and addiction just to cope with her misfortune.

Neither the happy nor sad ending is very likely. Our heroine thus must experience some sort of middle ground.

Once attaining the affection of one Ted Tonks, after the sort of mating ritual typical of teenage witches and wizards of the era which included much hand-holding, making out in dark corners of Hogsmeade, and professing undying love, Andromeda Black found herself faced with a dilemma.

Should she forsake her family and confess her love, or demean Ted by hiding him like an embarrassment?

Andromeda Black struggled with this burning question for days on end. On one hand, family was something permanent. They shared blood, experiences, inheritances... Everything that mattered. Her sisters were lovely, wicked creatures. Though she was often peeved with them, she couldn't quite imagine life without their presence. Her mother, though sometimes shrill, was dear to her, and her extended family- her cousins, her aunts and uncles, the pureblooded society that she had been ingrained into since birth - were somewhat essential to her.

Ted was less permanent and less an ingrained part of her very being, yet had somehow wormed himself into her heart and mind and soul in a way that was entirely too insidious to be ignored. Andromeda was quite torn.

After giving the matter much thought and struggling silently, Andromeda chose her fate by the most decisive, fair method she could conceive.

She flipped a coin.

The Galleon landed numeral-side up.

"Shoot," Andromeda said. "No inheritance for me." But then the delicate, sublime feelings of love swept over her weeping soul, and Andromeda felt complete.

She then got to consider how, exactly, she would break the news that she had Deep Feelings for a Mudblood, of all people. She got the feeling that it probably would have been more socially acceptable to fall madly in love with the house-elf.

She decided that the best method would be to make it quick and clean, something she would have, had she been Muggle (though then the dilemma never would have existed, and therefore she would not have been considering the analogy), likened to ripping a Band-Aid off quickly.

She invited Ted to a family soiree the summer after graduating Hogwarts.

The entire clan was gathered. Father, in his vibrant plum robes, holding a fruity concoction that emitted sparkles every so often, chatting with the elder Malfoy (nouveau riche, trying desperately to not look awed by the sumptuous setting, dressed in over-the-top designer robes) about the deficiencies in the Wizarding educational system. Mother, dressed in dour grey to match the new streaks in her hair, stirring a cauldron and occasionally picking at the newly blossomed wart on her nose while her sister-in-law scowled in an attempt to compete for the Most Likely to be Shoved Into An Oven and Eaten award, as held by the Commiseration for the Actions of Hansel and Gretel Association..

Her sisters were wooing their beaus, dressed in linen and lace designed to complement the darker one's eyes and the lighter one's hair. Her cousins were doing something suspicious around the punch bowl, and were being shooed away by the more alert adults.

Andromeda emerged from the house, Ted reluctantly in tow.

There were several possible outcomes for this action. One involved mass chaos - punch bowls spilled in the mad rush, people screaming and waving their arms about in a silly manner, an older woman fainting into a conveniently placed man's arms. That did not happen.

The entrance could be overlooked by everyone. Caught up in their own squalid, pathetic lives, the entrance of this abomination could easily be ignored by the masses. A child or two might glance their way curiously, a maiden might sweep past them in search for a lavatory, and Andromeda would look at the gathering and despair. She would stride out into the center of the crowd, hold up the hand she had clasped with Ted's and proclaim her love. She would realize the futility of trying to do something new and unique and controversial, and sob the night away while Ted wondered what had happened to his happy girlfriend. This does not happen, either.

Andromeda wants to start a war. Andromeda wants to see dreams and beliefs dashed against the rocks like an infant's fragile skull. Andromeda wants to see the decay that will encompass everyone she has loved before slide up their rotting bodies and consume their way of life and fortunes and properties, all in the name of progress. Andromeda wants to see it all burn to ash, though Andromeda does not think she comes from a line of Phoenixes.

But Andromeda's rage is quite misplaced in a tale about true love conquering hatred and ignorance. Andromeda needs to be the pure sweetheart child she had once been in order to retain the sympathy and affection of those hearing of her trials and tribulations.

So Andromeda walks out of the house hand-in-hand with the embodiment of filth and degradation in society as the Blacks know it, and fire does not fall apocalyptically from the sky. Andromeda pushes down vague feelings of disappointment and wanting a refund (she did not get what she expected what was advertised what she paid for) and moves through the dream-like landscape of dreams and faith towards her parents.

The expected progression of this scene is to see her mother's face fall into expression would have, in another universe, made the Wicked Witch of the West herself green with envy, send her father into uncharacteristic fits of fury;, see fervor and screaming and delightful drama.

The anticipated outcome is hatred, tears, harsh words culminating in being disowned.

This occurs. This is not the point.

The grass beneath Andromeda's feet is springy and fresh green. The ground is soft, firm, gentle. Her shoes are brown, leather, sensible. None of the dew that is not on the grass could leak into them. Ted's hand is damp around her own, their dampness mingles as they both are nervous and afraid and together. The sky is a bright shade of grey, sun lightly shielded by clouds. Children shriek with laughter and joy and fear and it sounds harsh against the gently murmurs of adult conversation.

Andromeda's life is packed neatly into her Hogwarts trunk. It is not a new sensation after seven years, but it feels broken and haphazard and wrong.

Maybe the coin was wrong. Her sisters giggle towards their admirers, towards each other and at everyone else, and Andromeda wants to be part of the joke. She doesn't want to be the joke. She wants laughter not pain but it is impossible after the words are spoken and can't be taken back.

Andromeda's life is in a suitcase and her One True Love is at her side. Our heroine has her ending. She has an entire life yet to lead, a new life filled with electricity and cooking meals by hand or wand and being stricken from her family tree, but she has already had her ending.

Andromeda embraces her conclusion. Our heroine cannot be anything but happy because then what would the point of our tale be?

She will birth a child and name it Nymphadora. She will watch her sisters fall into ruin and folly and the arms of wealthy husbands and loving sons. She will pick up dirty socks and scold her One True Love about them.

This is Andromeda Black's story.