OOC: Slut Shaming in RPs

After having a friend come to me, not for the first time, about having a rude anon slut shame her character and indirectly herself (”desperate slut”), I find myself prompted to make a bold statement.

Just as our society is abundant with people of different sexualities, sexual appetites, sex drives, and sex partner preferences ranging from polyamorous BDSM to asexual aromantic; so too roleplayed characters will have a diverse range of sexual lives. Not only is singling out one character for being too sexually transparent narrowminded and harmful to the writer’s creative spirits, it fuels the very real slut shaming culture we have in our society as a whole. You are helping no one with anonymous comments on a person’s characterisation or assuming that the mun themselves must be a sexual whore by writing a character of variety sexual tastes. You don’t know that person and whatever their sexual views and activities may be, you have no place or right to pass judgment.

This often seems to happen in closed groups where one particular player finds themselves burdened by anonymous hate about their character’s sexual interactions while other players with similar sexually promiscuous characters (or more overtly promiscuous as it may be) receive no hate. If the anon happens to be from a person within the group, then clearly you aren’t truly offended by the promiscuous assumptions you’re making of someone’s character. You have a personal issue with the player themselves and that’s counterproductive to the group and not something you should take out on them by criticising how they choose to portray their character. 

People have sex just like everyone poops. Writers aim to realistically and engagingly portray characters (writing a character pooping isn’t really engaging stuff so we don’t usually include that) and roleplaying is a great way of doing so while also building connections with other passionate writers. So you can fuck right off if you feel it’s necessary to slut shame a fictional character or accuse a mun of being some depraved sex maniac just because they wrote their character shacking up or being sexually attracted to another character from time to time. And if you attack one person in particular and disregard other characters who do the very same then you clearly need to reevaluate why you’re even sending rude and small-minded crap anonymously in the first place.

Potter Family Manor in Dover, Kent– the back parlour

"Psychology," Andromeda repeats for her own benefit. What Septima explains makes sense and the older woman nods her understanding.

"It is what I'm interested in. From what I've learned from wizarding mind healing so far and what interactions I've had with co-workers, I did hear of Hippocrates. Some wizarding practices still wish to challenge the notion that it isn't divinely reaped. I wish it was as simple as a spell or potion but I'm well aware that it takes more than that. I actually had intentions of seeking out private mind healers who have been in the business longer than St. Mungo's staff have been studying. I believe some mind healers have been studying the practice since the early 1900s but it wasn't until 1970 that the Bohnam Committee agreed to fund public healers, making mind care affordable and accessible to the general wizarding population. Before that, mind healing was a crude and expensive private business that only the most desperate Pureblood would dare contact."

The last sentence comes with an eye roll that the woman can't resist. That much Andromeda has always understood. In her own experience, stubborn pride is the most incriminating mental illness.

"It sounds like the muggles have a better grip on the necessity of mind healing than our own medical community would ever care to admit." Andromeda smirks. "And it's looking more and more like I'm going to have to find a way to win your assistance if you try to decline. I think you're invaluable, Septima."

Substitutiary Locomotion // Andromeda + Septima

Andromeda shifts her hold on the texts in her arms as she considers what Septima suggests. As much as she'd like to think she's well educated in muggle living as a woman married to a muggleborn, talk of mind healing has never come up in conversation.

"I appreciate boldness," she comments with a grin before continuing. "I'd be lying if I said I was aware that muggles had a mind healing field. But I certainly hold no objections to learning from what they have already found. Of course finding that material is even less outside my means. And shockingly Ted has no interest in revisiting studies."

With a small shrug, the former Slytherin adds, "I'd also be lying if I said the offer was strictly professional. You don't have to accept but I would love company of like mind to bounce ideas and concepts around with. My daughter's nine year old wisdom only gets me so far."

Substitutiary Locomotion // Andromeda + Septima

The brutal force of Frank's words hit Andromeda square in the chest as if he'd cast spells from the tip of his wand instead heated words of the tip of his tongue. The woman doesn't flinch outwardly though. It's not the first time she's faced him in an agitated state, though it is the first time he's been coherent in his anger and able to clearly verbalise how he feels.

When he stops in the middle of his tirade, his gaze slipping over her shoulder, Andromeda turns in her seat to see what it is he's shocked by just as the man addresses the little interloper.

"Nymphadora!" Andromeda calls as she holds her gaze on the two year old tottering at the edge of the kitchen floor.

The patter of anxious feet is heard moments before the nine year old appears, chewing at her lip and hair now short and muted brown, eyes a cloudy grey. "Sorry! I was just setting up a train station. I didn't--It was only a few seconds, I swear!"

"Dora, just take him back in the other room and pay closer attention. Understood?"

"Yes mum," the girl says, nodding erratically as she takes Neville's small hand in hers and steers him on unsteady little feet away from the kitchen.

Andromeda turns back to Frank, quick to reassure and hopefully dissuade him from another fit of anger that would tear her apart inside for standing in his way. It's his talk of tearing our souls that she's feared most.

"He probably didn't hear much of that, Frank," she says. "And he's only just two. He won't recall any of it if he heard anything.

"And I'm sorry, Frank. I could have told them but at the time I was more concerned about your health and safety, as well as my own. Your testimony under sound mind can do more now than my assumptions would have achieved then. So focus on breaking through to the memories if that's what you want but also remain true to yourself and looking after your family. They need you focused on them, not a vendetta against someone you can't even remember right now."

House Call | Frank + Andromeda

The actions Andromeda displayed left Frank’s stomach reeling. The way the woman opposite him had dropped her gaze at his question meant, to Frank, there was even more he was not informed of, even more question that were going to be left unanswered. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to put the pieces together that were so vital in finding the scum that had done this to his wife and himself. Whoever it was needed punishing and needed to be cut from society.

Isn’t usable? Frank fought the urge to sigh or tut across the table at his healer. Complicated didn’t come close to describe how Frank’s life had turned out to be. There were days where he felt as if he wasn’t even acting himself or when his mind would go blank if he thought too hard about the night in question. Was Frank even Frank Longbottom anymore?

"And? So what?" he finally said, throwing a hand up. "It’s just names! Suggested names so that the Aurors could have the slightest clue where to look for my torturers! It wouldn’t be as if they’d dismiss a healers words, especially the healer who help himself and Alice get back onto our feet again." Frank could feel the heat rising up his body as he grew angry. "They’re probably names were already know and people we could have found, but no. There wasn’t any solid evidence."

This it a tut did roll free from Frank’s tongue. “Once I crack these walls, healer help or not, I will remember those face and I will get their souls ripped from their bodies because they don’t deserve to step foot on this earth. Alice and I were innocent bystanders to their Dark Lords twisted vision. As if we were ever going to know where that bastard had fuck-.”

Frank stopped dead. His eyes darted towards the kitchen door where a short dark haired boy stood staring across at his father, eyes wide. “Neville, go back and find Dora. Go on.” He lifted a hand to shoo the boy away, hoping he hadn’t heard too much of the conversation.

Grinning with halfheartedly-subdued amusement, Andromeda crosses her arms and shakes her head. Her cousin is splitting hairs but what else can she expect from the man who once made a school career out of pranking with is four friends. Had even enjoyed dragging her into his plans when they were kids looking for ways to drive their parents a little mad. Bella always wanted her to join in her exploits but it was only Sirius who could get young Andy to pull her nose out of the books long enough for a good laugh or two.

"I got it!" her daughter nods enthusiastically. "I'll do it right next time."

"There will be no next time, Nymphadora. Unless you're willing to face the consequences," Andromeda says with more conviction. "You can have your fun with Sirius but the pranks don't come home with us. That was our agreement."

The nine year old pouts, her brunette hair turning a deep shade of black, but nods her understanding before shaking away her disappointment swiftly and turning back to her second cousin with dogged determination. her locks now a copper orange. "So what are we going to do today, huh?"

"Dora." Andromeda hates to interrupt her daughter's fun before it starts but she wants to have a chance to speak before her cousin becomes tied up with the little spitfire of hers. "Remember how I said I wanted to talk to Sirius about something before you guys get distracted? Please find something quiet to do for a moment and I'll make sure Uncle Siri gets to you in short order. If you'll put her down, Sirius?"

Playdate with Sirius

With a raise of his brow, Sirius reached for Dora and pulled her up into his arms, setting her on his hip to stare pointedly into her face.

"What did uncle Paddy say about exploding dungbombs in the oven? If you’re gonna do that, make sure you explode them after you’ve called me to put up a silencing charm.” The faces he made at the imagined smell were probably priceless. At least Prongs’d always said so before hexing him silly.

His grin was directed at Andromeda before he turned a serious look on Dora. “See, they don’t need to hear it; they just need to smell it and run. Get it now?”

This young man before her was once the spindly wisp that followed her and Sirius when they tried exploring the nooks and crannies of her aunt's old house. The young wide-eyed boy she always shared her favourite books with--the only other member of their family who shared her love of books and knowledge in the same way. When Sirius told her that little Regulus was presumed dead, Andromeda had regretted never trying harder to keep in touch with him the way she had with Sirius.

Now she has a chance to make up for it.

His answer astounds and immediately pleases the woman. A wide smile spread across her face. His glassy wet gaze had momentarily frozen her with fear that he'd admit to the what she didn't want to hear but it seems her fears were unfounded.

"I believe you, Reg." She recalls her cousin as a child, a boy she never saw as capable of the pure hatred required for someone of their bloodline to follow You-Know-Who with blind faith. And she sees now in his gaze the need to be believed, the honesty in his words. "Few understand what it means to utter 'the Order' and I can tell you know what you're talking about."

Andromeda reaches out once again and squeezes his shoulder affectionately as she adds, "Please, don't remain a stranger, Reg. My husband and I would love to have you over one day. You can meet my daughter. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have another 'uncle' to play with."

Blacks and Books | Regulus & Andromeda

Oh, my darlings, let me tell you the proper version. Once, long before the days of Slytherin, there was a witch who lived like a shining star all surrounded by squat, ugly, and sightless Muggles; and so we will call her Pure-As-Stars. Think her up in your mind’s eye. She was the most beautiful creature you can imagine. Pure-As-Stars searched far and low for a proper kind of wizard, and found him. They had a daughter. We will call the daughter Pure-As-Snow. Well, one day Pure-As-Stars decided to take Pure-As-Snow to the market, which was crawling with Muggles, for in those times wizards and witches had no choice but to mix with all kinds of backwards persons. And in the market they passed over all of the rubbish that these creatures pressed on them, and found instead a magical mirror that was far too precious for its filthy surroundings. So, Obliviating the Muggles, they seized the mirror and took it home.

Soon enough, Pure-As-Stars found that the mirror showed them everything they could possibly wish to know. How should we ward the house, so that these creeping and ugly folk living around us might leave us be? asked Pure-As-Stars. And the mirror revealed a way. How might I bend the wild elves to my whims and so make a perfect servant for dear Snow? asked Pure-As-Stars. And the mirror showed her how. Which spells might I use to defeat the hideous hags and giants which torment us? asked Pure-As-Stars. And there, in the mirror, was the answer she desired.

So from far and wide there came ugly, grasping Muggles to look inside Pure-As-Stars’s magic mirror for answers to their trifling problems, and to praise her and marvel at her great beauty, so that after some time when Pure-As-Stars would ask the mirror, Where might I find the most beautiful and extraordinary witch in all the world? the mirror would only show her her own reflection. However, because it was a magic mirror and meant to reveal all the answers one might covet, when Pure-As-Snow came of age, the mirror’s answer to this last question changed, and it began to show Pure-As-Stars’s pretty daughter instead. Startled and angry, Pure-As-Stars began to hate her child, who was nothing like all the ugly creatures around them, and who had instead grown to surpass her lovely mother. 

Knowing she was no longer the most exceptional being in the land, Pure-As-Stars took to bed, ill and jealous, and when her husband came and begged for a solution to cure her, Pure-As-Stars said that the only thing to cure her would be to eat the liver of Pure-As-Snow.

Being a proper wizard, canny and clever, her husband hid Pure-As-Snow and killed a wild wolfman for his liver, and when Pure-As-Stars ate it she recovered for a time. But the ugly wolf heart was no permanent cure, and when she looked in the mirror and asked who the loveliest witch in the world was, it again showed her Pure-As-Snow. So again Pure-As-Stars fell ill with hatred, and demanded the stomach of Pure-As-Snow. Her husband went out and killed a troll and delivered its stomach to her, but this paltry offering again failed, and still the mirror showed Pure-As-Snow. So Pure-As-Stars asked for the heart of Pure-As-Snow. And her husband killed a Muggle and brought her the heart, but this would not do either, and Pure-As-Stars resolved to do the task herself. Pure-As-Stars brewed a poison brew and set out to find her daughter with the aid of the mirror, and so to eliminate the competition.

But when she found her, Pure-As-Snow begged to live. “How can I let you live?” said Pure-As-Stars, “When you are not like these rapturous Muggles who do my bidding, but instead seem poised to rise above me?”

"You are too enamored of those lesser than you, and not enough in love with your own kind," said Pure-As-Snow. "You must let me live. I am like you."

Pure-As-Stars said, “But I despise you. You are so much lovelier than I.”

"I am this way because I am your daughter, and the daughter of a worthy father,” cried Pure-As-Snow.

"The mirror has shown me that you have more might and magic than I, being so beautiful," said Pure-As-Stars, "And you will replace me. Why, then, should I let you live?"

"Without me to replace you, there will be nothing but the ugly Muggles to inherit the world. The mirror has shown you what you covet most. Is that not, Mother, the chance to leave behind a child as pure and beautiful as yourself?"

And Pure-As-Stars saw that it was so, but there was chaos and jealousy in her mind which had been left there by all the praise these sightless Muggles had heaped upon her, seeking to gain her favor and her love. And she realized how wrong she was, and drank the poison brew herself, and her death caused a great plague to sweep the land which killed these obsequious beings, a fitting punishment.

And so Pure-As-Snow ruled over the land from that day forward, inviting clever and proper magical persons to live with her, and she locked the mirror away for many generations until one descendant of hers, who we will call Pure-As-Black, who as we know is not a made-up person but a distant ancestor of your father’s, should ship it with him to this country. Pure-As-Black hid the mirror in some secret place, remembering how it had made a mother love Muggles instead of her own perfect child, and charged every mother in our line with telling this story. And the mirror he called Eris, after discord, and those who fall pray to it are the Erised.

So now you know. Yes, Bella darling, every last one of them was beautiful, with the shining dark hair of that distant land they cleansed of Muggles. Yes, Cissy darling, it is a tale of motherhood, the noblest occupation a witch can have. Oh, what’s that, my darling? You think it was silly of her to want to be lovely and perfect? You think that was the real problem? You feel sorry for the Muggles? Oh, Andromeda Lyra Perpetua Black. You do have such fancies. 

(Honestly, Cygnus, I worry for her. She does seem to miss the point of the story.)

PUREBLOOD PARENTS:

Cygnus Black →

Andromeda's father imposed himself without offending. He could command attention when he wanted to and remain observant and allow others to claim the floor. As a young girl, Andromeda was intrigued by her father's presence but she got a sense of personal affection from him. However, that never surprised her, coming from a culture built on self-centred principles. What her father did do was encourage her drive to learn. He handed her books without a word, yet she always felt there was a kind of affection in the small action.

Of anyone in her family she secretly hoped would accept her desire to marry Ted, it was her father. So his reaction came as the hardest blow to her confidence. On a few words and a look that spoke volumes of how far she fell in seconds in his eyes. After that, she was too distracted by the abuse of her sister and mother to register her father anymore, and later walking away to never return. She knows nothing of her father's current position in life and only wonders about him in very rare moments.

Druella Rosier →

Andromeda never knew maternal love or affection unless it served the woman a purpose in front of others. As a the middle child, bookish and less likely to disobey, Andromeda observed Druella's potential for cruelty in her confrontations with Bellatrix or a snide comment directed at Narcissa. When her mother did find reason to turn harshness Andromeda's way, she learnt to expect and prepare for it. Her mother did educate her daughter in how to shield her emotions and reject any path that didn't align with her own.

No matter how much screaming, threatening, manipulating, or harm her mother inflicted on her, Andromeda held to her desire to marry Ted. Druella sent Andy packing and striding out the door.

The hug is a surprise but not unwelcome. Andromeda returns the embrace with equal affection, hearing the small emotional edge to his whispered words before they are subsumed in his more exuberant words. Nymphadora jumps up and down excitedly at the talk of terrorising and Andromeda closes her eyes in resignation.

“We aren’t terrorising anyone,” she says perfunctorily but without compunction. “You do realise that last prank you showed Dora how to do nearly gave one of our neighbors a heart attack when she tried it on her own?”

“Muuum,” Dora cuts in with a frown. “Stop being such a fun-sucker! Mrs Button was fiiine. She needed something to make her Tuesday more exciting! Duh.”

Andromeda looks pointedly at Sirius before looking down at her daughter. “We already went over why you shouldn’ t have done that, Nymphadora.” Turning back to Sirius, she adds, “Sirius, tell her why she shouldn’t have done that.”

She’s putting her cousin the spot and she knows it. Then she waits patiently, curious to see what he says and Dora looks at her favourite relative expectantly.

Playdate with Sirius

Winking at Dora and plopping a big, wet kiss on her cheek akin to Padfoot’s slobbery shows of affection, he stood and tugged both ladies into the loft. With the door shut behind them, Sirius pulled Andromeda in for a hug and nuzzled into her ear with a surprisingly emotional tug at his voice.

"Glad you’re here."

The words just barely above a whisper before he pulled back, all traces of emotion hidden behind a well-constructed wall. “So!” Both hands rubbed together in a mischievous display, a grin tingeing his already impish features, “Who’re we gonna terrorise today?”

It doesn’t occur to Andromeda that asking Septima to help her research would be an issue until the other woman asks what is was she could need assistance with. She hesitates, thoughts tumbling over each other as she tries to figure out a way to present the research topic without giving away the true intention for said research. Perhaps it was a bad idea to make the offer, even off-handedly, but now that it’s out there, Andromeda feels it would be rude if she suddenly yanked it away immediately.

“I’m a busy woman these days so I don’t have the time to devote to private research the way I once did,” she starts off explaining. “I’ve recently taken a greater interest in mind healing. You know it’s only recently become a field acknowledged by St. Mungo’s and after working so closely with the department in the Janus Thickey Ward this past year I think it would be beneficial to my career to broaden my knowledge in the subject. I imagine the research endeavour would be less tedious if I had a partner to assist me.”

The former Slytherin is mildly impressed by her own explanation, realising that it is a half-truth. Her interest in the field had increased while the Longbottoms were in her care at the hospital. But it was when another patient appeared in her ward a few weeks after the Longbottoms were discharged, affected in a similar way by the Cruciatus Curse, that Andromeda knew she might be able to better treat her patients if she had a firmer understanding of mind healing practices. Certainly, Bellatrix is not suffering as a result of extended exposure to an Unforgivable but it’s close enough.

Substitutiary Locomotion // Andromeda + Septima

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Maffy.” The woman cannot resist the reminder of their school days. The thought brings a grin to her face despite the current circumstances of her old friend’s appearance in her flat.

“I can do it for you if it’s too difficult. I imagine it hurts like the dickens,” she adds, “but the last thing you should do is sleep. Especially if you hit your head. Did you?”

Andromeda steps forward as she tries to view the woman’s appearance again. The shadowy darkness makes the surveying difficult and the woman finally resigns herself to switching on the table lamp beside the sofa. She desperately hopes Ted remains unaware of their unexpected house guest at such a late hour.

The golden glow of the lamplight illuminates Mafalda better and Andromeda is reassured that there’s no visible sign of head trauma. Of course, that doesn’t say much for certain but it’s a good step in the right direction. She steps up to stand right in front of her friend with her hands pressed to her hips, looking down at her with a look of impatience. “You can go home and sleep as soon as you get undressed and I can patch you up.”

Crash Landing || Andromeda & Mafalda

Maf looked up at her friend and wanted to go white. The idea of being naked and having Andy there was still a thought that could make her melt with just the very idea. She put most of her weight on her friend and made her way through her friends flat. She was too focused on trying to stop the pain coursing through her body to think about if she had been here before. If she could hear Ted stirring or if she heard a child cry. Her attention was wholly focused on trying to move and to keep her mind from wandering. 

In comparison to the hard floor and her hard landing the couch felt wonderful. She sank into the cushions and let out a ragged breath. “If I were in serious trouble I’d report myself.” She looked up at her friend and gave her a familiar goofy grin. She knew what she was doing wasn’t exactly in line with the law but that was simply because the ministry had turned a blind eye to what was really going on. It had started out as a search for the truth to know what had happened. She had heard so many stories about people that she had gone to school with or grown up with she had no idea what was true and what was fabrication. The further she had dug the more she had realized that even if they were her former classmates they were getting away with horrible acts and the ministry had been just letting them go.

“Do I have to?” She whined keeping her voice down. The idea of being naked with Andromeda was one thing but knowing that there was a husband and child just mere feet away made whatever fantasy in Mafalda’s head turn a very different and no longer appealing route.

She reached up and unclipped the robe that was hanging off of her shoulders, next moving toward her button up black shirt, moving each of the buttons with a pained breath. She fought to look up at her friend. It was awkward enough she didn’t need more awkward eye contact. She unbuttoned her trousers but didn’t dare take anything else off not wanting to move much more of her body. “Can’t I just sleep for a bit?” She finally looked up at her friend and rested her head against the back of the couch. 

Healer Pratt had taken to his task immediately and Andromeda sends another healer off after Hartwood to fetch an Internal Reversal potion and essence of dittany. The woman spares Mary a brief glance as the young woman finishes cutting away the clothing and Hartwood returns with blood replenishing potions in her arms.

“You know what to do—get that potion into the IV,” she delegates. Another healer on her team is at her side clearing away the blood and already healing some of the surface wounds with the standard healing spell. Andromeda turns her attention to Pratt and MacDonald just as Mary asks Pratt if he’s prepared to switch. The young man already has a sheen of sweat along his brow as he nods his agreement with Mary.

Wand held at the ready, Andromeda’s gaze is on Mary as Pratt drops the stabilising spell. If Mary doesn’t pick it up swiftly, they could lose him before they make any headway in healing his external and internal injuries.

Destabilisation | Mary + Andromeda

Mary was in the hall already when the code rang out and as a result was one of the first to reach the body. Blood didn’t bother her, she’d be in the wrong line of work if it did, but she still winced in sympathy when she saw the condition the poor man was in. Working with another healer, they transferred him to a gurney. She was glad when Andromeda came out and took charge a few seconds later; Mary was smart and skilled, but she was still young and hadn’t been a fully trained healer very long. Situations as delicate as this one still made her nervous.

She nodded her head and began to cut away the man’s clothing, pulling it carefully away from his wounds. Merlin, someone had truly done a number on the poor man. Mary forced the thought aside, her hands steady and efficient as she reminded herself that now was not the time for sympathy. His life depended upon her ability to focus and keep calm in emergencies. 

"…And MacDonald—it better hold."

Mary’s eyes shot up and met Andromeda’s for a moment before she gave a stiff nod. There were others available, more experienced and yet she was the one given the difficult task of stabilizing the man’s heart while his injuries were seen to. 

The last of his clothes fell away and Mary took a deep breath, raising her wand to match Healer Pratt’s position. “Ready?” she asked, her voice giving no indication of the butterflies in her stomach. 

Andromeda doesn’t know whether she wants Frank or Alice to regain their memories of what happened to them. What she understand about the night and what occurred is all based of fragmented words and names, actions and reactions the two of them exhibited while in her care at St. Mungo’s. And seeing how hard the two of them have both worked to rebuild their lives after being released, she fears that regaining the memories might debilitate them or set them on an even worse path.

Yet the question Frank poses at her forces the woman to drop her gaze sharply, staring not into her tea but at the tabletop.

She shouldn’t know anything about what happened. Not even the Ministry can confirm anything and since the two victims were also the only two witnesses—at the time mentally unsound to provide coherent testimonies to what occurred to them—there was no one to punish for the crime committed. Andromeda isn’t even certain she knows the whole truth. What she does know is that her sister was involved. Who else could instill a fear into Frank Longbottom at the sight of her? Andromeda only resembles one person and the uncanny similarities makes it unsurprising at this point when someone flinches away from her if they don’t look carefully enough.

It was pieced together from the screams, the whispers. The other healers selectively assigned to assist in the Janus Thickey Ward were all legally bound not to share any knowledge learned while in the ward. Andromeda had made doubly certain her healers were tight-lipped after the first outburst from Frank involving the name Bellatrix. Though no confession from a person certifiably out of their own mind holds weight in a criminal case, Andromeda knows the rules don’t always keep certain zealous persons from trying to wield the information anyway. No matter what her sister has done—whether it’s true or not—Andromeda won’t make herself the one responsible for putting her sister in Azkaban. She simply can’t bring herself to that.

“What I know isn’t usable in a criminal case,” she answers carefully. “It’s a complicated matter. There’s—there’s no solid evidence that proves what I know is true.”

House Call | Frank + Andromeda

It had crossed Frank’s mind that it was his own self that was protecting him now from the horrors that laid behind the wall he found sometimes as he slept. Brick by brick, he could tell that the wall was coming down because he would occasionally get a flash of blurred images that he assumed linked to what happened that night. But most of the time frank tried to put it to the side because he didn’t want to worry Alice further.

"I don’t know how I feel about forcing them to come back," he admitted, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "If they’re meant to come back, they’ll come back so, I’ll just have to give it some time and try to continue on with what I’m doing." Frank wasn’t going to let what happened to him effect his future even more. He’d already missed out on so many important mile stones of Neville’s; he  didn’t want to start getting himself wrapped up in revenge plans.

It was easier said that done, talking to Alice. Frank never knew how far to push the conversation when it circled around that night in question because it was clear how much it effected Alice still. He knew that when she felt ready, Alice would open up to him and Frank was willing to wait until that day came. “I think I’ll have to wait to talk to Alice about all of this. It’s not the easiest of topics to talk-,” he paused looking up to Andromeda with a bemused expression.

"Wait. If you know who did this… why haven’t you told the Ministry?"

Andromeda watches, standing at the foot of the hospital bed, as Marlene determinedly forced herself off the gurney and into the bed without the assistance of the trainee. The action doesn’t surprise the healer and she simply waits until the younger woman is situated before banishing the gurney and waving her free hand to the trainee.

“You can go. This is something I will handle on my own.”

Once the trainee departs, Andromeda step around to look down at Marlene. “I’m going to cut away your trousers here in a moment. First I’m going to see about this head wound.”

The slur to Marlene’s words is the first indication that there’s a possible concussion. Illuminating the tip of her wand, Andromeda leans over and holds the blonde’s eyelid open to flash the light across her pupils. A concussion, indeed. “You’re definitely going to be staying overnight for observation. And if you fall asleep, we’ll have to give you a Pepper-Up potion or Enervate. Possibly both.”

Andromeda leans back and then moves down to Marlene’s lower half where the deep laceration in her calf is. Point her wand tip at the hem, she comments, “I hope you weren’t overly fond of these.” Then she cast the cutting spell and drags the tip of her wand up the pant leg until she cuts through the waistline. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she does the same with the other leg and then carefully tugs both pieces of fabric away from her body, laying the wound bare.

The healer’s brows jump with surprise as she finally takes in the state of Marlene’s leg. The edges of the wound aren’t red-inflamed but blackened. Necrotic. Reaching out carefully, the woman touches the black flesh. And the wound itself cuts nearly through the entire muscle. Looking in, the upper half of the wound is black just as the epidermis is, while the lower half is still a raw pink of healthy muscle that bleeds anew at her handling of it.

“Sorry. Definitely darker,” she finds herself saying aloud. “I’m not going to be able to simply close this up. Not until we’ve removed the necrotic tissue and are certain the effect of the spell won’t spread beyond what damage it’s already caused. We don’t have time to really debate this so you’re going to have to take my word for this…”

Andromeda doesn’t finish her sentence before she turns and head toward the door. The trainee had closed it behind her. The healer-in-charge pulls the door open, leans her head out and shouts, “The healer that braves the critter corner of the supply room and brings me the maggot colony gets an additional day off.”

This shouldn’t be amusing, yet Andromeda can’t help the clearly amused grin on her face as she turns back to look at Marlene, looking for her reaction as they hear the sound of scrambling feet out in the main ward.

Ghosts That We Knew || Andromeda & Marlene {Flashback}

The eyes that were trained on the ceiling panels shifted. Her hands inched and wrapped around the gurney, a slight feeling of disconcertment lacing her mind at the sensation of being levitated out of her own control. Only her logical mind set stopped Marlene from downright refusing movement, that and the trust she held in her healer. In truth, she was lucky that it was Andromeda that took control of her medical needs and not one the other vaguely anonymous attendants.

With Andy’s words she racked her mind. Protocol ran through her head in a desperate attempt for Marlene to try and remember what she was and wasn’t allowed to say to her healer, but everything came up blank and so she rattled off everything specific to her injury. “There was an attack…” Her blue eyes closed momentarily, the witch hearing the uncomfortable shift in stance from the trainee. “I’m thinking not sleeping.” She murmured, eyes looking over at the trainee with scrutiny.

“The cut to my leg isn’t caused by a curse like Lacero, I would have recognised it. It’s darker then that.” Marlene’s fingers twitch near her leg, the movement noticeable and laced with anxiety. “I think I hit my head on the floor after something exploded.” Memory fuzzy with the concussion that she was sure was slurring her speech, she refused the help of the trainee and moved herself over to the bed; teeth clenched against the agony as she did. 

Andromeda shakes her head as she crouches to the ground beside the other woman. What has Mafalda gotten herself into?

“I didn’t know working in the ministry with improper magic was such a violent profession. I thought the Aurors had the corner on injuries on the job,” she remarks with a raised eyebrow as she lets her gaze scan over her friend’s state. “I’m not really concerned with following procedure when a friend needs help.”

Despite her words, Andromeda hesitates to assist. Mafalda is dressed entirely in black. It’s well after midnight and she’s injured from a “fall” that she is worried about going to St. Mungo’s for. The healer has not seen or heard much from her childhood friend since they graduated. Considering the conversations the woman can recall them having in their last few years when it came to the broiling tensions on blood purity—and she never seemed to like Ted no matter how many times she tried to get the two to be friends—Andromeda can’t be blamed for her caution.

“Maf, you’d tell me if you were in some serious trouble, right?” She wants to ask if allowing her into her home would mean bringing risk to her family but she wants to believe Mafalda wouldn’t come here if that was a possibility.

With a sigh, Andromeda reaches out and tugs her friend’s left arm out to wrap around her own shoulders and gently lifted her up to bring her across the threshold and swiftly moved the other woman over to the small sofa against the side wall opposite the window. Mafalda is in bad shape and Andromeda does her best to relieve the weight on her right side as she sets her into the cushions.

Straightening back up, the healer finds herself arching her eyebrow once more as she states, “You’re going to have to get undress. Or I can remove them for you.”

Crash Landing || Andromeda & Mafalda

Mafalda looked up at her old friend and couldn’t help but smile. Even after pregnancy and a war she was still beautiful to Mafalda. The pain in her legs and her chest were a bit to much for her to really stand up to greet her friend. And trying to move inside she knew would be more of a crawl over the floor than any sort of real movement to get inside. 

"I may or may not have taken a small fall." She chuckled slightly. It was more like a fall off of a one story building but still it could have been much worse. She was glad that she did not make her way to St. Mungo’s having everyone fuss around her would have been so much worse than having to possibly deal with Ted Tonks. 

"Could you possibly help? I know it’s probably against procedure and I really should go to St. Mungo’s but, I’d rather not answer questions or have the ministry find out." She tried to push herself up but was met with a shooting pain up her whole right side. "Bloody." She whispered trying again to move her broken body. 

Sound in the Tonks' small London flat carries easily, especially when only one member of the family is awake and the rest of the home is shrouded in silence. Andromeda sits with her legs tucked beneath her in the back of the flat in her closet-converted office space. The desk light shines over her array of parchments and texts spread over the desk surface.

The knock at the front door startles Andromeda from her intense focus and the woman freezes. Her ticking watch shows that it's late. Who would be knocking at this hour?

Andromeda stands and exits her office, slowly making her way down the hall toward the front room and the front door. The unknown visitor must be a familiar, she reasons to herself. Someone threatening is far less likely to knock and wait to be invited in. Yet she still reaches the door and lifts her wand, casting a revealing spell that makes her side of the door transparent without the other side being aware.

"Mafalda?" Andromeda finds herself whispering aloud to herself as she stares at her dearest friend from her years in Slytherin, a woman she hasn't seen in what feels like far too long and clearly disheveled and battered.

Her wand moves through the air as she disenchants the door of its protective charms and then disengaged the muggle lock mechanisms before she can twist the knob and open the door to her friend. Her soft brown eyes take in Mafalda for a moment before she finally speaks.

"What are you doing here at this hour, Maf?" Her words are whispered as she steps aside to allow the woman in. "Come in. Please. Just--what's wrong?"

Crash Landing || Andromeda & Mafalda

Mafalda pushed herself off of the pavement. Every inche of skin felt like it was a blaze. She managed to scoot herself over to the brick wall in the alley way. While her all black garb may have been stealthy it did nothing to help her with protection from her the non-magical issues that came with watching others. A string of curse words ran through her head as she looked down at her body. It was broken and bleeding. She couldn’t see any bone luckily but she felt like there were a few things very out of place. 

There wasn’t much in the way of options for her, she didn’t want to end up at St. Mungo’s and have to try and explain away her injuries to a stranger. Getting to St. Mungo’s was another issue. She was lucky enough that this happened in a wizarding community so she could use magic easily enough. Gingerly she pulled her wand out from the secret pocket in her robes. She closed her eyes breathing, trying to concentrate on the one place, the one person she knew that could help her. She had always been an expert at apperating, it was one of the reason she had gotten the job at the improper use of magic department. She knew how and when it was perfectly fine to apperate and was able to tell if people really needed to use emergency procedure or not. Right now emergency procedure was exacty what she was going off of, even if she was in a wizarding community. She cloaked the area around her and focused, keeping her breathing calm and soon enough she felt herself squeeze into the tight spinning space that was apperation. 

She felt herself hit something hard and wooden, curse words flying she looked up trying to figure out where she had ended up. Of course. The house would have wards up, what house didn’t have wards up to protect it, especially after what had happened. Every house but her’s probably had some sort of protection up. She looked over her body, proud ot see no splinching had occured and then turned her head to the door. She was pretty sure this was the right house, she hadn’t been there recently and she had hoped upon hope that they hadn’t moved recently. She reached the hand the hurt the least up and knocked on the door. Her last hope was that it would be Andy to answer the door and merlin forbid if it was Ted.