"Let go," she says through gritted teeth, as his hold tightens. She wants nothing more than to hex him until he's blue in the face, near death, that inevitable Slytherin instinct drawing her hand to her wand likeamoth to a flame. She really, really wants to hurt him more than anything right now.
He's calm, which drives her absolutely mad. His blue eyes are tranquil, as is his mouth, which is in a firm thin line taunting her with its easygoing implications. Just run. "Not until you give me an answer."
"It's not that easy, you prat," she spits out angrily, still struggling against his grip, which is cutting off her circulation. Maybe she'll get lucky and drop dead right then. That'll show him to corner an unsuspecting girl to force answers that she doesn't have out of her.
We can do it.
"It is," he says, blinking twice, eyes still passive. He won't allow any emotion to seep into his words, in the likely case that she'll choose her family, and leave him with a bleedingbrokenandshattered heart.
"It's not!" She screams, shoving him back, with unknown strength. He stumbles a bit before he grabs at the stone wall for support. She feels tears threatening to pour, but she won't cry. She has too much pride for that. He's not going to get the better of her now, not ever.
His hands reach out to her. A last ditch attempt at persuading her that this doesn't have to be the answer. There are many more solutions to their predicament and either way, she's going to end up hurting, and he hates that just as much as she does.
She slaps his hand away and reaches for her wand. "Leave me alone," her voice is hoarse and worn; it's quite obvious that she's had enough. This was the final straw in the haystack that they could barely call a relationship.
"Andromeda," he wants to sound like he can comfort her, but he can't, because she's pregnant with the baby of a muggleborn wizard, and even if she chooses not to run away with him, she's going to get hurt. "You know what will happen to the baby."
"No," she falls to her knees and shakes with silent sobs, her face in the palms of her bruised hands. "No."
For a minute, one painstakingly miserable moment, he thinks this is her final answer. That everything they had together is now gone and his child will likely die with her in the wrath of her family of pureblood supremists.
He's been defeated.
"I can't…" Her dark eyes are tortured, and he wants to take it all away, but he can't make things better unless she chooses him. She swallows away more tears. "I can't," she repeats, "They'll kill me." And the baby, she wants to add, but refrains. She's already showing too much weakness.
"Either way they're not going to be pleased," he reminds her, gently, though he keeps his distance. He's aware that she doesn't like being touched when she feels emotional, just another thing to chalk up to her miserable upbringing. "But I swear on my life, I'll keep both of you safe."
She stares at him, still crumpled on the floor, looking like a right mess. Her hands intertwine and fold themselves into her lap and she contents herself with looking at that while she calms herself down.
A funny feeling is bubbling in her barely pregnant stomach. Two weeks. She glances up at him, her face infuriatingly vulnerable. "But what about you?"
She's more than vaguely aware of the Dark Lord's plan to eliminate muggles and muggleborns alike, and she hates herself for being terribly bothered by the idea. It wasn't befitting of a pureblood witch, not in her family at least. But she's always been different and odd in a way that Bellatrix and Narcissa would never be.
He smiles a little, knowing that it probably hurt more than she let on to voice her concern for him, a mere muggleborn. "Don't you worry about me, I'll be fine."
She hoists herself to her feet and crushes him with a hug. "You're the most loathsome bloke I've ever had the misfortune of meeting." She mutters this into his chest while his arms wrap around her waist automatically.
And it's so like them to be so reckless and stupid. A witch destined to marry a pureblood running off with a muggleborn wizard. It's just so fitting; she can't help but think, recalling all the times Bellatrix had sneered down at her for being different. Or the times she'd catch Sirius staring at her with an almost sort of awe whenever she'd question her family's strict rules. She doesn't want to smile but she does.
Everybody had to have seen this coming, hadn't they?
A/N: I don't know what got into me, just felt like writing Andromeda and Tonks. Also, I know that she wasn't pregnant when they got hitched and ran off, that was just my angsty mind at its finest. I kid. Well hope you enjoyed it at least a little.