Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**The Luckiest**

_I don't get_

_Many things right the first time_

_In fact_

_I am told_

_That a lot_

It's the summer after fourth year, and the hot, sweltering kind of day that makes you want to crawl into the basement with buckets of ice, and Sirius and I are hiding out in the only place where we are undisturbed from the rest of our family. Unfortunately, that place is my bedroom. Which happens to be on the top floor of Black's Park, and feels ten times hotter than the rest of the house.

"Milton!" I yell downstairs for our house-elf. "Milton, honestly, are you ever going to make it up here with that lemonade? Please?" I grimace at my cousin with annoyance. "He's probably died on his way up here."

"Don't be cruel," Sirius laughs, pulling out his wand. "Shall I Accio him?"

"Oh, and I'm cruel?" I chuck an apple-core at him. "Don't even think about it."

"All right, all right!" He raises his arms in mock surrender before swinging himself back on my bed with his book.

"And you have got to stop reading, it's making me nervous," I tell him. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen you _touch_ a book in your free time before, other than to build something out of it."

"Well, times change, cousin dearest," he laughs.

"_The Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Protection?_" I thought I recognized the book as one of our schoolbooks. "Sirius, are you trying to get yourself hexed into the next century? Put that away, your Mum and Bellatrix are going to go spare if-"

"They won't see, and stop being such a bloody coward, honestly. Anyway, this is important."

"Homework?"

"Did you not just hear me say it was important?"

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. What's so important, then? Oh, Merlin's pants, Sirius what dimwitted thing have you done now that you need to look up the counterjinx for?"

"That hurts, Ada, it really does." He looks up at me, and his expression changes, and he actually looks solemn for probably the first time in his life. "Look, I can't tell you, I'm sorry. I'm trying to help one of my friends. Just drop it."

"Fine. Milton!" I exclaim happily as our old elf trots into my room, balancing a jug of fresh lemonade, a platter of sandwiches and a plate of watermelon slices on his head. "This is brilliant, Mil, thanks."

"Milton is so sorry Miss Ada and Master Sirius had to wait so long," the old elf croaks. "This heat is not doing the Mistress any favors, and Milton has been very busy tending to her. Milton apologizes."

"That's all right," I say, casting Sirius a warning look. "Do you want some Lemonade, Mil? You look like you need it."

"Miss Ada is too kind, and Milton is much obliged but Milton knows his place. Milton has some water downstairs. But, oh, Milton almost forgot!" He extracts a letter from his pillow-case. "Milton has a letter from Miss Ada, it just came." He hands me the letter, bows low to both of us and scurries out of my room. I curiously turn around the envelope, addressed to me in unfamiliar handwriting, and slide it open to find a picture of a sunny beach. I turn over the picture of the beach and read:

_Dear Andromeda (do you have a nickname? Only it seems like such a bother to say such a long name all the time),_

_Greetings from Bournemouth ! My grandparents took me here for a day, and it was just brilliant. The Sea was all blue and gigantic and it was sunny and we went swimming and everything! Other than that, I've not been doing much, other than playing lots of football with my brothers. Do they teach you about football in Muggle Studies? They should, it's honestly the most important difference between Wizards and Muggles- Quidditch and Football. Remind me to show you how to play when we get back to school. I'm writing to you because I have discovered, now that I'm a couple hundred miles away from you, that I sort of miss you. I'm as surprised as you are! But I thought you had a right to know that. I hope you're well, and your sisters aren't being nasty (you see? I do listen when you tell me stuff) and you're having a good summer. And if you're not, just concentrate on September first and going back to Hogwarts. And seeing me, of course, because you miss me too. Right?. Tell Sirius I say hello, and if he wants to make the Quidditch team this time 'round, he ought to be practicing his arse off. _

_Your Friend, _

_Ted T. _

I let the postcard sink, completely bemused. "Ted Tonks says you need to practice more Quidditch," I tell my eagerly awaiting cousin.

"Ted Tonks, eh? What's he writing to you for?"

"I have no idea," I admit.I look up at Sirius with wonder in my eyes. "D'you know," I say, slowly. "I think he fancies me." As Sirius chortles and teases, I reread my postcard, thinking about the blonde boy with the too-loud laugh who I bonded with two years ago, in the hospital wing. I was in there for curse-wounds; he'd gotten into a pretty bad Quidditch accident. We were both in too much pain to sleep, so we stayed up all night, chatting about our so very different lives. I told him all about Bella, and why my own sister would hex me with something this nasty, and he told me about growing up as a Muggle-born, how weird things kept happening to him and his brothers teased him about it. After that, we stayed as friendly a Muggle-born Gryffindor and a Black in Slytherin can dare- meeting "coincidentally" in Hogsmeade, in the library, whenever Bella and her stupid, meddlesome friends weren't looking. But… well, I thought we were supposed to be friends. I never would have thought that he, you know, liked me like _that_. I mean, he's sweet, and rather good looking, and he makes me laugh, and there was this one time when we were playing some Quidditch that I looked at him and my stomach did this funny swooping thing, but, Merlin, that might have been the broomstick.

"Well? Do you like him back?" Sirius has even put down his book for a second, gazing at me questioningly.

"I don't… maybe." I say, slowly. "I'm not sure. Oh, stop grinning like that, you big prat."

"Well," Sirius says good-naturedly, gobbling down the last sandwich, "at least now I don't have to worry about tempting Mum and Bella's wrath by reading about DADA."

"What?"

"Oh, come on," he shrugs. "If they find out you're going out with a Muggle-born? You might as well chuck yourself out the window now."

----

_Dear Ted._

_Thank you for the postcard from Bournemouth! I hope you don't think you have to write me letters all the time for me to like you or for us to be friends. Because you don't, and I would be friends with you either way. And I like being friends with you._

_ I want want us to be friends too._

_**I GIVE UP! I HATE BOYS!!!!**_

---

A few weeks later, we're back on the Hogwarts Express. Sirius ran off with his friends the minute he saw them, and for a second, Cissy looked like she might ask me to sit with her, only to change her mind once she saw the look on Bella's face. There are times when, really, I cannot stand my family. "Do you want to sit with me, Ada?" Regulus, sweet little Regulus, starts at Hogwarts today, looking so grown-up in his robes. For a second, I feel a hundred years old.

"That's all right," I say, smiling at him. "You go make some friends of your own." Conveniently leaving out how, apart from his brother, I'm probably the greatest friend-deterrent you could have in Slytherin House, and he is definitely going to Slytherin. Auntie will be so proud. Sighing, I kiss my mother goodbye –"Now, at least try not to embarrass us too much this year, Andromeda"- and drag my trunk through the Hogwarts Express. I hate the first day of school. It always makes it so blatant that I haven't got any proper friends, because everyone's too busy catching up with their real friends to pay too much attention to me, their Charms-Club-friend, or their Muggle-Studies-friend, or their Can-I-get-your-Transfiguration-notes-friend. Once classes have started, it's not as easy to spot, and therefore harder to care, but today…

I find an empty compartment, shove my trunk inside and curl up against the window, fishing a book out of my trunk. Ted got me_ Pride and Prejudice_ at the end of last year, after I passed my Muggle Studies exam, saying it was one of the most famous Muggle books. I didn't dare touch it all summer, but I've been really looking forward to reading it now. I open the book, and find a little note scribbled into the inside of the book:

_To Andromeda- _

_I think I should warn you now: Muggle society is nothing like this any more. And Muggle boys certainly aren't all like, what's his name? Mr. Darcy. So don't get your hopes up. Still, I hope reading this brightens up your summer!_

_Ted_

I feel horrible, absolutely horrible. I sort of froze after that letter from Ted, never even wrote him back, and now I just feel like an idiot for pushing away the one person at Hogwarts to whom I might have been more than just their in-between-friend. Mind made up, I get up and walk through the train, still clutching my book in one hand. A surprising amount of people smile at me, and I peer into every compartment, until I find Ted's blonde head. He's sitting with a couple of other Gryffindors and a few Hufflepuffs, mainly Muggle-borns by the look of it, and I make extra-sure that neither Cissy nor Bella are to be seen before sliding open the compartment door.

"Hello, everyone," I mumble, blushing as everyone's head turns to look at me. "Um, Ted? Could I speak with you for a moment, please?"

He frowns at me, but in the general murmur of "Hiya, Andromeda," he gets up and we're facing each other in the corridor.

"Hello," I say, my voice measured. "I, uh, I hope you had a good summer?"

"I did, thank you," he replies in the same, careful voice. "You?"

"Rather lousy, but that was to be expected. I, um- thank you, for-" I lamely point to the book I'm still clutching. "I've only just started it, though. But thank you for your note."

"That's not the only note I wrote you," he says, flatly.

"Yes! I, um, thank you, for your letter, it was lovely to hear from you," I splutter.

"Was it?"

"It was."

"So lovely you could hardly write back because you were so overwhelmed by the loveliness of it all?" He snaps. "I get it, all right? I'm a Mudblood; you don't want this. I'll leave you alone from now on."

"Ted!" I exclaim shocked. "Ted, no! Stop it! That's not what I…" I grab his hand as he's about to turn away from me. "I am _so_ sorry I never wrote back to you. I truly am, that's what I wanted to tell you, that's why I came to look for you. I don't know why I didn't, and I'm really sorry, and you were right- I did miss you, over the summer, and I hope we can still be friends, and if you want to go out with me, maybe we can even do that, once, and see what it's like, and-"

He looks completely puzzled for a moment, and then he breaks out in laughter. "You're killing me."

"What?"

"Did you- oh, Lord, Andromeda, did you think I wanted to go out with you?"

"I, um, I- well-" Oh, no. I feel blood rushing to my face, and I feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Of _course_ he doesn't want to go out with me, of _course_ he just wants to be friends. But then why am I so disappointed? I suddenly realize I'm still clutching his hand, and let go of it quickly, as though scalded.

He raises his eyebrows, still grinning like mad. "Do _you_ want to go out with me?"

"I, um," I falter. "Maybe?"

"Well, maybe we _should_ try it out. Once, to, what did you say? See what it's like?"

"Oh," I say, blushing harder than ever. "Really?"

"Yeah. It could be fun, right? First Hogsmeade weekend?"

"I, um. Yes. That would be nice." I stammer. "Ted, listen I'm so sorry about-"

"It's all right. Hey, did you make prefect?"

"No," I say, laughing. "Though I think it's reasonable not to expect people to submit to my lack of authority. I think I saw Bestian Gibbons with a badge earlier, though, so we might as well all kill ourselves now. Did you?"

Ted shakes his head and laughs, his too-loud laugh that makes people stare, and makes me feel like I've just been hugged. "No, no, I'm not much of a figure of authority either. But anyway, um, do you want to sit with us?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Come on, fetch your stuff and sit with us, it'll be fun. We've got a spare seat."

"I-" Stunned, but grinning, I nod. "I'll just get my trunk, and then I'll be back, all right?" Bella's going to kill me if she finds out. But I'm surprised to find that I don't really care.

---

With out friendship restored, as the school year begins I find myself relying on Ted more and more for laughs, listening and comfort. He shows me how to play football on a brilliant, sunny Saturday in September, and, with some of his friends, we start the Hogwarts Interhouse Dating Betting Pool, where my years of watching people and being a bit of a loner finally do me some good, when I win five galleons for accurately predicting that Head Boy Fabian Prewett will dump that horrible Kendra Zabini before the end of September. For the first time in my five years at Hogwarts, I'm actually finding myself almost behind on homework because I've got better things to do than do it. And it helps that Bella's off doing god knows what with the AAPA and that brutish boyfriend of hers, so she's not in my way the entire time. I'm still careful, of course. Careful not to stop to talk to Ted at the Gryffindor table, careful not to look for him in a crowded courtyard, careful not to look too happy when he accidentally-on-purpose runs into me after Herbology.

On the Friday before Halloween, I'm sitting having lunch at the farthest end of Slytherin table, trying to finish the required reading for Professor Slughorn before Potions this afternoon, when something hits my shoulder. I turn around and find a folded paper airplane with Ted's now-familiar handwriting on it. Carefully unfolding the airplane, I read:

'_Dromeda (you still haven't told me whether you approve of the name, by the way),_

_Since our big day approaches, I just wanted to make sure you're still interested. I'll meet you at the gate at 10? _

_Eagerly awaiting,_

_T. _

Oh, for the love of Morgana, that stupid, _stupid_ date. I didn't think he was still interested, I thought it was a laugh, an ice-breaker, I thought… well, I don't know what to think, now. What are we going to do? It's supposed to be a date, we can't just be us, and oh, no, what if he expects me to get all dressed up? With make-up and things?! What if he tries to kiss me? Not that I'd mind, I mean I'm sure he's a perfectly good kisser, not that I've thought about it much, I mean…

Merlin, I'm exhausting myself.

_Ted-_

_That sounds perfect. See you at ten!_

_Andromeda (stop calling me the other thing- it makes me sound like a camel!)_

_PS. What, exactly, am I supposed to be interested in? Never mind. See you tomorrow!_

---

The next morning, I hang around breakfast a little longer to make sure Bellatrix is off to Hogsmeade by the time I get in line. I'm smelling strongly of Catalina Malfoy's strawberry shampoo and, for the first time in my life, I've curled my hair. It actually looks quite nice, I think- unfamiliar, and a little too bouncy for my taste, but nice. I get past Filch and hurry across the grounds where I find Ted, leaning against the gate with a huge grin on his face as he sees me.

"Hi," he says. "Wow, you clean up nicely."

I stare at him, and find myself blushing. "I, um."

"That was a joke."

"Oh." I try to laugh, but it sounds more a cough. "Do you, uh, want to get going?"

"Yeah, of course- where d'you want to go?"

"I, um, Zonkos? Maybe? And Honeydukes?"

"Sounds good. And Andromeda?" He's frowning at me. "Calm down."

"I, I'm not-"

"It's all right. Let's go."

After ten minutes, I tell myself that this isn't really a date, and things look up from there. We go to Zonkos, and we buy Dungbombs and come up with elaborate schemes involving my sisters and fake wands. Next, we go for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, drink warm butterbeer and Ted pays, reminding me again that this is, you know, a date.

We walk around the village a little more, and when Ted gingerly takes my hand, I resist the urge to snatch it away, and after a while, even that becomes sort of pleasant. Honeydukes is next, and, after stocking up on sugar quills, Drooble's, and chocolate, we buy a big bag of sticky, strawberry-cream-filled Chocoballs to share, and follow the winding road out of the village, back towards the castle, for a bit. Ted's telling me about his summer, about his brothers and his Mum, and we find a nice group of rocks on a sunlit hillside to settle down on. It's a beautiful day, sunny and clear, cold, but not in a threatening sort of way. When I hug myself against the wind, Ted wordlessly hands me his scarf before tearing open the bag of chocolates. Our conversation winds down as we pass the Chocoballs between us, both of surreptiously scooting a little closer together.

"So this has been fun," Ted says slowly after a while.

I turn to face him. He looks serious, but not solemn, there's still that hint of amusement in his eyes. The sharp, setting sun is making his features look oddly sharp. "It has," I say, smiling. H

"Do you think…" For the first time in our acquaintance, Ted's the one lost for words, hopefully looking at me to finish his sentence. And I happily do, telling him that I would love to do it again, on the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"Good," Ted smiles. Our eyes meet, and before I can move or react or as much as think, his face is coming closer and closer and his hands are doing something odd with my face and he's sort of cradling my head and then…

He's kissing me. Kissing. Me. He's kissing me and I'm kissing him and for a split-second of this strange, alternate reality, nothing else exists. But it's too weird, it's too much, and even though it feels good, really good, actually, it feels wonderful and I never, ever want him to stop, something in me snaps, and I pull away, jump to my feet. Ted stares at me.

"Are you-"

"We can't possibly do this!" I stammer. "Are you out of your mind? We're supposed to be friends! Bellatrix is going to kill me! And never mind that, what do you think you're playing at, just kissing me like that without even, you know, warning me?" I let my words hang in the air, hear how stupid, how ridiculous they sound, and our eyes meet, and for a second, we're both about to start laughing and it's all completely alright, but then that moment passes, and tears shoot into my eyes and I turn on my heels, and I run.

I run up the hill, back to the gate, until I'm winded and gasping for breath, and when I slow down I expect Ted's hand, turning me around, reaching for me and asking me what just happened, but as I stumble through the gate, I turn around, and, apart from the gathering darkness, I see absolutely nothing. I want to cry, but all that comes out are these stupid, gasping sobs that probably have more to do with the hill I just ran up than with the way I'm feeling. Which, for the record, is horrible. No, _worse_.

I slowly, numbly, walk back to the castle, walk so slowly because I keep hoping Ted will be behind me, but he's not. He's not there. He's probably still standing by those rocks with that bewildered, hurt look on his face, and at that thought, I start to cry in earnest. I'm scum. I'm the greatest prat on the planet. And he was being so nice to me, and we had such a lovely day, and my stomach did that swooping thing again, and I liked the kissing so, so much- and now I've gone and messed up, again, and I don't even have a proper explanation. Except that I'm scared out of my wits about this. I'm scared of Bellatrix, I'm scared about what this means. I'm not the kind of girl that goes around kissing boys. He was supposed to be my friend, I was starting to really count on him for that. He can't be my boyfriend and be my friend at the same time, can he?

Now, I suppose, he's not much of anything. I slip into the castle and up to the owlery, the place where I come when I need to be completely alone. When I need it to be quiet enough so I can hear myself think. But amongst the soft cooing and rustling of wings, all I hear is the words "stupid idiot" repeated all over again, and I don't _want_ to be alone. I want Ted. But I've messed up, and that's really all there is to it.


	2. Part Two

**The Luckiest**

**Part Two**

_Now I know all the wrong turns_

_the stumbles and falls_

_brought me here_

Andromeda supposes that all great love stories work like this. There is always The Initial Attraction, then there are The Complications and The Messing Up, and then come either The Happy Ending or The Tragic Finale.

These days, she finds herself _still_ hoping for the former, though she knows perfectly well that, in all likelihood, her love story will be the one that's never told, the one between those two odd secondary characters –like Mr. Collins and Mary Bennet- where everyone always thought they should have gotten together, and they never did.

But as they grow older, and hardly wiser, as they leave behind their OWLs and their spots and the intensity of their hormones subsides, as Bellatrix leaves Hogwarts at last and sixth year gradually peters out into seventh, she finds herself hoping, again. Despite the horrible fights they keep getting into, despite of how much it hurts her when he starts going out with Lizzie McKinnon for a bit, despite of how much it annoys him when she ditches an offer to spend Christmas at Hogwarts with him because of Bella's wedding –not that she _wants_ to go-, by the time seventh year rolls around, they're flirting so much even she knows that it's flirting.

There are far too many moments of almost kisses, moments when there is nothing between them except Peeves bursting in at the wrong moment, Sirius and his increasingly tiresome gang setting off a Fanged Frisbee, or Professor McGonagall returning to her classroom from lunch early, raising her eyebrows at them both and informing them curtly that there are more comfortable places to spend a their break than her classroom. And then, as it grows darker and colder outside, they run out of almosts, and suddenly, her world is teeming with even more actual kisses, stolen and copious and without any follow-up. They grab each other, barely make sure the coast is clear before their bodies collide, and it's not quite tension and not quite relief. In front of others, they laugh, they talk, exchange words in quick, sharp banter that makes onlookers roll their eyes and wonder whether they're ever going to get it.

Once, she catches his eye over lunch. Over the heads of half the population of Hogwarts, they look at each other, she feels her heart beat like mad against her chest and is pleased to note that he's gone quite pale as he holds her gaze over a forgotton forkful of Shepherd's Pie. She gulps down her lunch in the kind of frenzy commonly associated with a last supper and hurries out of the Great Hall. They barely make it behind the greenhouses. When the bell rings ten minutes later, they have not said a word to each other. It's a cold day in January, his nose and cheeks are bright red, and there are a few stray snowflakes melting in his heavily tousled hair. She shakes out her hair, pulls it up in a pony tail, and he throws out an arm as she's leaving, pulling her close again, the steam of their breathing mingling before he kisses her, and then he rushes to Herbology, leaving her standing, dumbstruck, with a positively idiotic smile on her face. And sometimes it's the other way around, sometimes she hides behind the statue of Roderich the Rotund and throws her arm out as he passes, pulls him behind for a long, long kiss and then leaves, and he can barely breathe, let alone call out her name.

He's patient. They both are, with the quirks and the pains of the other. She learns not to care when he offers to tutor pretty fourth years in Transfiguration, learns not to care that the female members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team consider him their property, somewhere between big brother and default date to Slughorn's parties and the Charms Club Christmas feast. He assures her that he'd never dream of kissing any of them, and though it takes her awhile to accept that he would honestly prefer her, moody, gawkish and irritable, to the charms, long limbs and easy laugh of a Holly Diggory, she gets there eventually. She begins to understand that the shy, serious smile he gives her is hers alone, and not the broad grin her bestows upon Holly and the other chasers. And he learns to wait. Learns not to press her for answers, learns not to ask for what it bloody is they're doing, because that only results in the color draining out of her face and her eyes widening in shock and fear, because she knows, deep down, how big this is. She's still scared out of her wits what will happen if, or rather _when_ her family finds out, and she's just as scared that this might be over as quickly and as easily as it started, that there will come a day when he won't give her that smile of his.

She tries pushing him away. Having learned from childhood not to trust something that's purely good and not at all sinister –for her, sinisterness always meant familiarity, and therefore comfort- she decides not to trust him. She tries not talking to him, not looking at him, not kissing him.

Needless to say, she fails. She has always been diligent, meticulous where Bellatrix was passionate and Cissy was sloppy, but Ted stumps her. She cannot make herself resist him, and she's beginning to realize that she needs him. Every single part of him, his lips and his hands and his arms around her waist, but also his raised eyebrows, his laugh, the way he elbows people out of the way to tell her his good news. But that's not it- not quite. What seals the deal for Andromeda, who has been starving for some undemanding love, for some affection that isn't boasting, proud or self-seeking and doesn't come with a catch, is that he seems to need her to. Winter melts into spring, and the day they're supposed to leave Hogwarts comes ever closer, and still they haven't talked about what it is they have, exactly.

---

"So." He appears out of nowhere one day in April, drops down next to her as she's revising for NEWTs in the library, casually concealing a bag of chocolates in his robes. "What are you doing next weekend?"

She doesn't bother looking up, instead buries her face more deeply in her book lest he see her smile, her blush. "Studying."

"Of course you are."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I know you're a very busy, very studious person that spends most of her time shut up in the library."

She smashed her book shut and glares at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well, I think it is. Because you if you weren't studying next weekend, we could go into Hogsmeade together."

"Outside. Now." She grabs her bag with one hand, his hand with the other and marches him right past Madam Pince's disapproving glare. Shoves him into an empty classroom, drops her bag, and before he knows it, she's pinned him against the wall and is fiercely kissing him like her life depends on it.

She pulls away first, and then they're staring at each other, hapless and hopeful, wide-eyed, not entirely unpleasant shock spelled out on both faces. He regains countenance first, manages a grin. She buries her face in his shoulder and he hugs her, and in the threatening, lurking silence, she says, with a voice too wobbly and too small for her, "I think I'm in love with you. It seems like such a stupid thing to say when you've only just passed your Apparition Test, but Ted, I reckon this is the real thing."

He breathes out, slowly. "Me too."

She detaches herself from his shoulder and looks up at him. "What happens now?"

"This." And he leans down, and kisses her, again and again and as often as possible, before the world has a chance to invade.

Eventually, they hear Peeves approaching and break apart. "We need to talk about…this," she says, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and forcing herself not to kiss him again.

"Yeah," he says, warily, "I know."

"Tomorrow morning," she says. "In the owlery. At six?"

He nods. "Goodnight," he says quietly, looks around and, having made quite sure the corridor's empty, he leans in for a last kiss. "I'll be dreaming about you," he whispers into her ear.

She feels herself blush, giggles. "You had better." She stares at him, his straw-colored hair, good-natured smile, apple-cheeks and strong build. Everything about him is so alive, so healthy. It's nothing like the home she knows, where all that matters is blood and ancestors, dead ones. "Goodnight," she whispers, and sneaks off into the Slytherin dungeon. She feels like she's walking through a dream, ecstatic at the thought that she has finally found a name for that maddening, powerful force that makes her think of him from the moment she brushes her teeth in the morning to the moment she slips into bed at night, and sometimes well after that. It's _love_.

"Ada?" At hearing her childhood nickname, an echo from a time long past, she swivels around. Cissy is sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, surrounded by books and parchment and chocolate, and wearing an uncharacteristic expression on her face.

"Cissy?" She glances at the clock above the fireplace, it's nearly midnight. "You're up late."

"OWLs," Cissy says, simply. "I don't care how well I do, as long as I beat Sirius."

She shakes my head and suppresses a laugh. "You amaze me. Well, I was on my way to bed, did you want…"

"Sit," Cissy says, and in tone and authority she is so like her mother that she instinctively obeys. "What's going on between you and that Mudblood, what's his name? Ned?"

"Ted," she says, icily. "And don't call him a Mudblood ever again."

Her little sister's eyes widen in something that's more than shock- it's genuine concern, something she never expected to be the one to entice. "Oh, no. It's true, isn't it? You're seeing each other."

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she snaps.

"It's my business because I have been lying for you to Bella for months. In every letter she writes to me, there's always a PS. What's Andromeda up to? And every time, I have written back, oh, she's fine, she's just studying, she's still a loner, hasn't got any friends, and I have been leaving out the part that you're messing around with a Mudblood."

"I TOLD YOU-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, keep your voice down and listen to me. It has to stop. It absolutely _has_ to stop. Go see him tomorrow morning and break up with him, because-"

"Because I'm a Black and can't be a bloodtraitor polluting my blood?" She snaps menacingly.

"Yes." Her little sister's eyes meet hers. "But there's a much, much better reason than that."

"What?"

"It's_dangerous_, you fool. Times are changing; the purebloods are fighting back. Bellatrix and Auntie won't stand for this."

She shrugs, giving a short, thoroughly unamused laugh. "What can they do- lock me in my room with no supper? I'm of age, they can't control what I do with my life or who I fall in love with."

"Listen to yourself!" Cissy's hand flies to her temple. "You _know_ what Bella's capable of. She will hunt you down, and she will not rest until she has made your life as horrid and wretched as you can imagine. You haven't been home since last summer; you don't know what it's like. Father's sick, he's dying, and he keeps saying it's his deathbed wish for us all to live up to our name, and Bella's sworn she will. You don't understand- they've gotten over Sirius running away, they've disowned him, they'll do it to you, too, and something worse. Bella keeps talking about how she wants to hunt him down and you know her- it's not just talk, with her She and Auntie, they've gone mad, both of them. This _isn't_ about the politics, though I think what you're doing is completely wrong. This is about you being safe."

"What if I don't care? What if I don't care about what they'll say, about what the family will think? What if I don't care about being safe?" She spits out the last word venomously. "Because I _don't_ care!"

"Then you really are an idiot," Cissy says coolly.

"You don't understand," she says, desperately. "I can't just ditch him, it doesn't work that way, I-" She stops, her voice trailing away. "But thank you," she says quietly. "I know you don't get it yet, but one day, you will."

Narcissa shrugs, looking much, much older than fifteen. "Maybe I don't want to."

Andromeda lets out a hollow laugh. "Maybe you don't," she agrees. Reveling in the moment of sisterhood they haven't had since Narcissa started at Hogwarts, she settles more comfortably in the armchair and helps herself to a chocolate frog lying around. "I thought you stopped eating chocolate?"

"I-" Cissy blushes, mumbling hastily: "This is an exception, I just needed something to keep me going, but I'll skip breakfast tomorrow morning to make up for it."

Andromeda gapes at her. "Excuse me?"

"Well, that's why I stopped eating sweets," Cissy says rather miserably. "Mother said I had to watch my weight or I'd look a fright eventually."

"Oh, in the name of Morgana and all her lovers," Andromeda swears, shaking her head. "You do know you that you're so pretty it makes most people ill, don't you?" She gets up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "It's late, go to bed. And don't listen to a word Mother says."

Cissy's eyebrows shoot up. "Like you."

"Like me."

------

She hardly sleeps at all that night, and when she does, Bellatrix's cold laughter and Ted's warm one waft through her dreams, and she tries to follow Ted's and ends up looking up at her larger-than-life-sized, jeering older sister, while Cissy hovers in the background, owlishly looking on with a face that plainly says "I told you so."

When her alarm goes off in the early hours of the morning, she flies out of bed, slips on her robes and bleary-eyedly brushes her teeth, thoughts playing catch inside her head. What if Cissy, on some small level, is right? _What if this is far, far too dangerous- and not just for me? What if Bella goes after us, goes after Ted, what if she tries to hurt him?_

She spits out her toothpaste in a half-hearted sort of way, mind buzzing like a furious fly as she sneaks out of the deserted Slytherin dungeon and through the castle. She passes a few fifth years heading to the library and Mrs. Norris, but nothing worse as she hurries to the corridors, up the tower.

It's a glorious morning, the sky is already a brilliant blue and the sun, warm and strong, is rising over the grounds, throwing the tips of the forbidden forest into sharp relief. Something about the beauty of it all, mixed in with the familiar sounds of feathers rustling and distant hooting, is incredibly soothing. The door creaks open, and it's Ted, with a big smile on his face that she knows is partly genuine, and partly overplaying nerves. This is a conversation that by rights, they're both far too young and far, far to ridiculous to have.

"Hey."

"Hi." An awkward pause and then she's in his arms, hugging every last part of him. And how could she live without this? "I don't care what they say," she blurts out. "I don't care if it's wrong, I don't care if it's selfish and dangerous, I _don't_ care."

"Good," he says easily, but she knows from the way his arms are gripping her body that there is enormous relief in there.

"You need to be sure, too," she says, forcing herself to look up at him. "Because it might… it might be dangerous. My family, you've only ever met Sirius, but the rest of them, they're… not very nice. Especially Bellatrix. And Auntie. And my father isn't exactly gentle, either."

He sighs. "I know."

"And?"

"And I don't care." He slips his hands into hers, and stops them from squirming as he leans in for a long kiss. "Forget about them. We know what we're doing, right?"

She laughs, hollowly. "I don't know about you, but I'm making this is up as I go along."

He shrugs. "That's good enough for me."

----

Weeks pass, weeks blissful and protected as, under the cover of NEWT practice, they spend almost every waking moment in each other's exclusive company. It's not that they _don't_ study, they do, but with kisses paid as penalties for wrong answers and rewards for correct ones, and sometimes he resolutely shuts his book and drags her outside, into the sunlight, where they spend an afternoon snogging and talking alike.

They talk about the future. She discovers that, with him planted so suddenly and so firmly by her side, she is daring to dream like she's never dreamed before, and even when they read in the paper about how dark the world is growing, and even when she remembers how close this is to her own front door, she finds herself unable to stop making plans for a bright, blissful future.

This week, they're planning to tour the world, leave England for a year, see the pyramids, the old temple of Angkor Wat, the Black's land in Assyria. Last week, they were going to become Aurors. Who knows what it will be next week? Listening to him describing exotic places like Goa or San Francisco –not that he's ever _been_, of course- with such enthusiasm makes her feel like she's small again, and being told a wonderful story. Not that anyone ever told her stories, especially stories like these. Back then, it was all about being good (her mother's stories) and blood and gore (Bella's specialty). Ted's stories are completely devoid of blood and gore, and, she smirks to herself as she distractedly walks her fingers down his bare arms as he tells her about the Woodstock festival for the millionth time, they certainly have nothing to do with being good. Somehow in the process of an afternoon spent in a secluded little grove by the lake, his shirt has come off, and her robes are certainly in a worse –no, _better_, really- state than they were this morning. With protective charms around the little beach, books strewn around, a half-empty bag of food and nobody around but Ted, with his sweet stories and fierce kisses, she thinks she could happily spend the rest of her life here. She leans over him for the bag of food, produces a slightly overripe peach, which she carefully slices in two, handing him one leaking, deliciously fruity half before devouring the other. Licks her fingers, suddenly stained in peach juice, grinning down at Ted, lying sprawled in the grass with a lazy grin on his face. They exchange a look, and a smile, and then she leans down and kisses him like she's never kissed him before.

The sun is already setting over the grounds, coloring the lake in a deep gold and the sky in a light scarlet, when they finally make their way back to the castle. She's shivering, there are bits of leaves in his hair and grass stains on his shirt. Dirt under her fingernails, and peach stains all over her body. They're holding hands.

A post owl flutters over the grounds, carrying an edition of the_Evening Prophet_ to the headmaster's study. Its shadow barely covers her face for a second, and neither of them know the headline reads:

_**Self-proclaimed "Lord Voldemort" claims responsibility for all attacks  
on Muggles and Muggleborns of the past weeks**_

**Ministry: "Will do all to catch the culprit" – Dumbledore calls attacks "some of the most dangerous and disgusting magic we have seen since the fall of Grindelwald" – large group of supporters believed to be involved**

As they walk back into the Entrance Hall, cold and cool after the bustling life of the lake and the grounds, Ted and Andromeda know that nothing will ever be the same again. But they don't know why not.


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance