Notes: The idea for this story was initially inspired by MandyinKC, who has called Ted the "great unseen character" in my Andromeda stories – crucial to the story, yet always just offstage. I wanted to give Ted his chance to appear onstage, too!
Thank you to stereolightning for beta-reading!
(Rated T for brief mentions of sex between consenting teenagers.)
. . . . .
1. The First Time They Talked
"Hi!" said an unfamiliar voice to Andromeda's left.
She turned to see that a broad-shouldered, sandy-haired boy had slid in next to her in the Quidditch stands, in the spot vacated when Bellatrix had run off somewhere just a moment before. It was the last match of the year, Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor.
"I'm Ted Tonks," the boy said. "You're Andromeda Black, right?" The grin on his face was goofy yet somehow likeable. Andromeda thought she had a vague memory of him being Sorted into Hufflepuff the same evening she'd joined Slytherin, making him a fifth-year like her. They'd never spoken before.
"Yes," she said. "I'm Andromeda. Why?"
He looked incongruously delighted at her answer. "No reason, really. Just, my friends dared me to talk to you, said probably the only thing you would say would be to tell me to leave you alone." He grinned again, disarming. "But I'm glad you didn't do that. Anyway. Enjoy the match!"
And with that, he slid off the bench again, giving her a little wave.
Did other students really think her that aloof? Andromeda wondered. Or was this one of those tiresome inter-house things, where Gryffindors assumed all Slytherins were snobs and Slytherins assumed all Hufflepuffs were daft and so on ad nauseam?
Gazing out at the players without really tracking their movements, now Andromeda almost wished she had told him to go away. It would serve him right, for playing into those tired clichés.
Someone slid in beside her on the bench again, and this time it wasn't the Hufflepuff boy.
"Oooh," Bellatrix said, settling the many folds of her long, dark skirt around herself and wrinkling her nose as if she smelled an awful stench. "What was that sitting next to you just now? Don't you know he's a Muggle-born?"
"Well I didn't talk to him," Andromeda said, feeling nettled by the whole thing. "He came over and talked to me."
"You have no taste, Andromeda," Bellatrix said, then shrieked in triumph as the Ravenclaw Beater got a Bludger to the Gryffindor Chaser's back.
Did taste enter into it, though? Andromeda wondered. He'd seemed nice enough. And besides, you didn't need to know a person's entire family credentials just to talk to them at a Quidditch match. If you were going to marry them or something, sure. But what did it matter for day-to-day things?
. . . . .
2. The First Time They Partnered in Class
The start of sixth year meant another reshuffling, as each student focused in on some subjects while dropping others, and smaller class sizes meant being grouped together more with other houses. For Transfiguration, for example, Slytherin was now paired with Hufflepuff.
Professor McGonagall seemed to be deliberately organising the class into cross-house pairs. Andromeda wouldn't be pairing with Nedra Nott anymore, then. Pity. They weren't close outside of class, but they always worked well together. Nedra was clever and understood Transfiguration, traits Andromeda appreciated.
It took Andromeda a moment to place the boy that Professor McGonagall seated next to her. Sandy hair, affable expression – it was that same Hufflepuff who'd come up to her at the Quidditch match last year.
"You're Ted," she said.
His answering smile was unexpectedly shy. "And you're Andromeda. You remember me?"
"Of course I do. You sat next to me at the Quidditch match that one time."
"Yeah. Sorry about that, my friends, you know–"
"–simply assumed I would be so rude as to refuse to even speak to you, if I recall correctly."
"Hey, wait, that's not fair–"
"Attention!" McGonagall called in her crisp voice, setting the class their assignment for the day and in the process heading off the conversation between Andromeda and her new deskmate that was veering towards bickering.
They were to Conjure a goblet from nothing, a more complex bit of Transfiguration than they'd attempted so far, since metal was one of the most difficult materials to Conjure. Ted Tonks was the first in the class to perform the spell perfectly.
"Nicely done," Professor McGonagall commented as she passed by their pair of desks.
Andromeda watched as Ted made minute adjustments until his goblet was finally to his satisfaction. When he looked up and saw her watching, he smiled and said, "Neat, huh?"
It was on the tip of Andromeda's tongue to ask, Where did you learn to do that? I thought you were a Muggle-born! – but that, she thought, would definitely count as rude. She'd never seen a Muggle-born wizard do such good spellwork, though.
Now she found herself curious about Muggle-borns in a way she'd never been before. What was it like to first step into this world at the age of 11? What was it like, for that matter, to spend your entire childhood not even knowing magic existed? Andromeda's imagination failed her there completely. She couldn't conceive of ever having been different to how she was now.
. . . . .
3. The First Time Ted Asked Andromeda Out
Ted seemed to like to listen to Andromeda talk. She could talk about wizarding history, Conjuration theory, anything at all, as they worked together on the day's Transfiguration assignment, and he'd sit there and absorb it, intent on his spellwork but listening to her, too.
"You've got so much in your head," he'd say sometimes, wonderingly. "Where do you keep it all?"
You're not so bad yourself, Andromeda would think. You've learnt everything I already knew from birth, except you did it in half the time.
One day after class, Andromeda was still going on about everything that might have gone differently in the Goblin Rebellions if wizard wandmakers had just been willing to sell to other species as well as humans, when she broke off, realising that almost everyone else had left the classroom, but Ted was still there, leaning against the side of her desk and paying close attention. She looked up at him, wondering at his patience, then gathered her books together and stood as well.
"Sorry," she said. "I know I sometimes really get going on topics I care about."
"'Sokay. You always make it interesting, the way you tell it."
"Oh. Thank you." Her surprise must have been plain on her face. No one else ever seemed to want to hear her questions and critiques about the things that got handed down to them as immutable historical fact.
Ted was studying her, his expression curious and intent. "Andromeda Black, I like you," he said. He grinned. "You want to go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?"
"What? No," Andromeda said. "Wait, what are you asking me?"
Was he laughing at her? She was quite sure he was laughing at her. "I'm asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade with me."
"I – no. I'm sorry."
Andromeda winced as she said it, but she couldn't think of a kinder way to reject him. She walked away wondering what in Merlin's name could have made him think that was a reasonable thing to ask.
It was only much later, after the lights in the dormitory were out and she was drifting towards sleep, that it occurred to Andromeda to wonder what made her think it wasn't.
. . . . .
4. The First Time Andromeda Asked Ted Out
And the amazing thing was, it wasn't even weird after that. Ted had asked Andromeda out (she was pretty sure he'd been asking her out), and she'd said no, and they went on being Transfiguration partners, and it was fine.
The year before, when Andromeda had politely declined Andronicus Burke, he hadn't talked to her for the rest of the year, lifting his chin haughtily away whenever he passed her in the halls.
But Ted…just kept being Ted.
The last Hogsmeade weekend of the term fell shortly before the Christmas holidays, and from the time the date appeared on the Slytherin noticeboard, all the chatter in the common room was about who was going with whom and who was planning on shopping for what. The latter was a topic that tended to veer quickly into who was expecting a racing broom or some other gesture of largess from their parents this Christmas and Andromeda, who fully expected her parents to give her yet more terribly expensive things she had no need for, found little to hold her interest in those conversations.
For the first time, though, she was intrigued by the who's-going-with-whom, who's-expected-to-ask-whom-any-day-now gossip. Sometimes in the evenings she would sit near the common room fire, one of her schoolbooks open on her lap, and listen with feigned disinterest to the names being dropped around her. Did anybody in her house date people from outside the house? It didn't seem like it.
The Tuesday before the Hogsmeade weekend, Lucius Malfoy sauntered by Andromeda's seat in the common room and smirked at her as he passed.
Oh, Merlin, he couldn't really think – could he? He was only a fifth-year.
More to the point, he was a smarmy, self-satisfied toad of a fifth-year, and receiving a shiny Prefect badge over the summer had only made him ten times worse.
Narcissa, who happened to be sitting with Andromeda that evening instead of with her usual gaggle of fourth-year friends, sighed and watched the back of Lucius' white-blonde hair swing away from them and murmured, "He's dreamy."
Dreamy? Were they both looking at the same Lucius Malfoy?
The Thursday before the Hogsmeade weekend, Andromeda fidgeted with the spine of her Transfiguration book, standing by her desk after class, then said, "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Ted said, "What?"
"I said, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
A slow smile was spreading across his face, like dawn breaking across the expanse of an ocean horizon. "Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"
Already, Andromeda was starting to regret it. "Well, if you don't want to…"
"Are you mad? Of course I want to!"
"You do?"
"Uh, yeah."
He was smiling that same daft, adorable grin at her that she remembered from the first time they'd met. Andromeda realised she was smiling too.
"I'll see you on Saturday, then," she said. "Meet in front of Scrivenshaft's?"
"It's a date," Ted said, then gathered up his things and dashed out of the classroom like he couldn't contain his eager energy a second longer.
. . . . .
5. Their First Kiss
Andromeda had never really got the point of the whole "Hogsmeade weekend as opportunity to go on a date" thing.
It was Hogsmeade. They were sixth-years; they'd been there so many times by now. There were only so many times you could make the rounds of the village's shops and pretend to still find it all fascinating.
And they were all the same people, too. You shifted the scenery a bit, but you were still surrounded by the same hundreds of Hogwarts students you lived among every day. There was nothing new about a Hogsmeade weekend just because of the person you happened to be walking around the village with.
Except it turned out Andromeda had been utterly wrong about that.
Walking through Hogsmeade with Ted Tonks, Andromeda felt as if there were fire running under every inch of her skin, despite the chill wind and the layers and layers she wore to keep it out. Snow had fallen overnight, and Hogsmeade looked like a postcard, all the houses and shop so sweetly picturesque it almost hurt to look at them, and she and Ted were walking so close that their hands kept almost, almost, almost brushing.
She could barely hear for the rushing in her ears and the pool of heat gathering in the very centre of her chest.
Ted was talking, and she was trying to listen, she truly was, but all she could think about was the back of his mittened hand just barely grazing hers, and the deep, deep brown of his eyes whenever he turned to her to emphasise a point.
Wasn't this the same Ted she'd sat next to, carelessly bumping and jostling elbows, every week this term? What was happening to her?
Andromeda had dated a boy before – two, in fact – but she had never experienced anything that remotely approached this. It felt as if at any second the ground might fall away beneath her feet and she would find herself treading air, or the strange heat behind her breastbone might burst right out of her, or possibly both of those things at once.
Andromeda wondered if she was dying. Ted was talking about Quidditch. He supported the Appleby Arrows. He was talking much more than he usually did, fast and edgy.
He was nervous, Andromeda realised. He was nervous too.
They fetched up at the edge of town, beyond the last of the houses, where a wooden fence ran along the road for a last small stretch before the cobblestones gave way to a woodland lane. There was no one else around.
Ted stopped and leaned against the wooden fence, so Andromeda did too. She pulled off her gloves, then wondered if she should put them back on. What was she doing?
Ted reached out and found her hand. His hands were bare now too, his palm warm.
"Andromeda, can I–"
The pause seemed endless.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed.
He leaned in and Andromeda's heart pounded, a wild thing in her chest.
Then Ted's lips met hers and that wild beating feeling spread through all of her. It was perfect. It was kissing Ted Tonks and it was perfect.
He pulled away a little and said, "So."
Andromeda said, "Yes."
Ted was grinning. He really did seem to smile an awful lot.
"Ted?" Andromeda said.
"Yeah?"
She smiled back at him. "I like you."
. . . . .
6. The First Time They Talked about Her Family
It was nearly time for Christmas dinner. Finally. The day had been excruciatingly long, and it wasn't over yet.
Sirius was running around shrieking, as usual, and Auntie Walburga was pinching the bridge of her nose with a faint air of counting the hours until they could return to their own home, making Sirius the nanny's responsibility once again.
Sirius was, what, nine years old now? He ought to know better than to behave like a hooligan. Andromeda sometimes thought Sirius lived to annoy everyone else around him.
Regulus, meanwhile, was sulking about something, also as per usual, and Narcissa was sitting beside him, stroking his hair and murmuring to him. Narcissa did love playing Mummy, and she always made such a pet of Regulus.
Father and Uncle Orion were debating something in loud voices from their armchairs next to the fire, Bellatrix sitting on the floor by Father's knee with her face upturned and avid. Andromeda was doing the opposite, trying not to listen, because whatever they were talking about, it would likely only make her want to answer back. It wasn't actually a debate, when Father and Uncle Orion talked. It was just a contest of who could express their shared views the loudest.
It was a pity Uncle Alphard hadn't come this year. He, at least, occasionally said insightful things.
And to round out this portrait of slightly inbred, slightly crazy holiday cheer, Mother was probably in the kitchens, berating the house-elves.
They really were a bit mad, the lot of them, weren't they, each in their own way. But Andromeda loved them anyway. How could she not? They were her family.
She kept thinking at the oddest moments about Ted Tonks, and then having to suppress the secretive smile that inevitably rose to her lips when his gentle, laughing face appeared in her mind's eye. There had been barely any free time between the last Hogsmeade weekend and the end of the term, but what little there was, she'd spent with Ted, talking or wandering the Hogwarts grounds in the snow.
Andromeda wondered what Ted would say about her family, if he could see them now. He'd have a good laugh, maybe. And hopefully not take Father and Uncle Orion all too seriously in their ignorant blather.
They gathered at the table for dinner, served by the elves, with Father presiding from the head of the table and Mother from the foot. Mother was still dropping hints about Lucius Malfoy and what a suitable match he would make. She'd been doing it all through the holiday, and not very subtly either. Bellatrix had only just been engaged off to that limp dishrag Rodolphus Lestrange – the official betrothal celebration wouldn't even be until summer – but already it was Andromeda's turn, it seemed. Just hearing Lucius' name was starting to make her mildly nauseous.
What a fine old family the Malfoys were, or so Mother kept working into conversation. What good connections they had. And with only one son in the family – well, the girl who caught him would be lucky indeed.
Is that truly all we care about? Andromeda wanted to ask. How many of their ancestors happened to be magical, and how much gold and how many greasy-palmed connections they have? What about whether they're kind? Or have a sense of humour?
Andromeda decorously fled the dinner table as soon as manners allowed.
"Ugh," she said to Ted, once she was finally back at Hogwarts at the end of the holiday, and they were ensconced together in one of the window nooks at the very back of the library, his arm comfortably looped around her shoulders. Andromeda wasn't sure what would happen if someone from her house saw them together like that. So far, no one had. "My family have practically married me off to Lucius Malfoy already."
"Wait, what?" Ted's body seeming to startle against hers.
"To Malfoy, of all terrible choices. I think I'd even prefer that creep Rabastan, if it came to that."
"No, that was 'What?' as in, What do you mean? Are you seriously saying your family think they get to dictate who you marry?"
Andromeda twisted around so she could look at him. "Ted. Yes, of course."
"What?"
Andromeda bit her tongue before she could say something that would end up coming out unkindly, like, You've lived in this world for nearly six years now, so how can you possibly not know that yet?
"That's just how it is," she said instead. "The old families have a strong interest in continuing their line, so of course a lot of thought goes into who marries whom. I'm not saying I agree, not entirely, but that's just how it is."
Ted was sitting up fully now. "Wait, so let me get this straight: Your parents are going to pick your husband-to-be – out of only the richest, 'oldest' pure-blood magical families, of course – and you're just going to go along with it?"
"Oh, I don't know!" Andromeda burst out. The whole topic made her feel edgy and claustrophobic. "I'd been hoping not to have to think about it for a few years yet, frankly. But all of a sudden, Mother seems intent on getting us all married off like Hinkypunks in a row. She kept going on about it all through the holidays. It was beastly, Ted."
"Andromeda," Ted said, very slowly. He'd moved his arm and turned so they were facing each other in the window seat. "What's this between us, then?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I guess I kind of thought you were my girlfriend. But apparently not, if you're sitting here telling me about the perfect pure-blood match your family's got all picked out for you. So what are we, Andromeda, if you already know you're going to marry someone else?"
Was Ted her boyfriend? He was her friend, certainly. A bit more than friends, to be honest, since kissing had been involved on a number of occasions. Very nice kissing, at that.
But it wasn't like that…was it?
"Well, we're not – we're – it's not as if we're going to get married," Andromeda struggled.
"Why not? If we wanted to?"
"But – but surely we needn't talk about that sort of thing now!"
"I'm not saying we should get married – we've only just started getting to know each other – but why is it such a crazy thing to talk about in theory, just like you're talking about marrying Lucius Malfoy? How is that different?"
"How is it different? It's completely different! It's – oh, I don't know how to explain it to you. It's just how wizards are."
She was afraid she'd offended him then, but Ted just said, the assurance in his voice taking her by surprise, "No, it isn't. That's how your family works, Andromeda, but it's not how most wizards' do. All my mates in Hufflepuff are pure-blood or at least half – they've all got at least one wizard parent, I mean. And I promise you, not a single one of them is expecting to have an arranged marriage."
"But I'm a Black," Andromeda said. Even to her ears, it sounded a weak excuse.
"And, what, that makes you royalty? You're like the Muggle queen, you can only marry into other aristocratic families?"
"I – no. I don't know."
The same argument had been whispering in the back of Andromeda's mind all through the Christmas holiday, and she didn't know how to answer it. She didn't know how to answer Ted. All she knew was that she didn't want to lose him. There were so few things Andromeda felt sure of these days, but that was one thing where she was certain.
"Can we not talk about this right now?" she pleaded. "I really just don't know."
The pause before Ted answered wasn't all that long, probably, but to Andromeda it was excruciating.
"All right," he said.
"Thank you." She reached for his hands, and squeezed them tightly.
. . . . .
7. The First Time It Was Official
Andromeda watched Lucius Malfoy, covertly, when he passed her in the halls or the common room, his chest perpetually puffed out, the better to display his Prefect badge. Halfway through the school year, it seemed the thrill of power had not worn off.
Andromeda had nothing against pure-bloods, per se. For Merlin's sake, she and all her family were pure-bloods. She'd be a bit of a hypocrite to condemn Malfoy only on those grounds. Andromeda wasn't one of those rabble-rousers who thought being from a pure-blood family made you practically evil, any more than she was one of those terrifying elitists who thought being from a Muggle family made you no better than an animal.
But Lucius Malfoy in particular made her skin crawl. There was a mean kind of calculation to him, a cold self-interest that wasn't right in a fifteen-year-old boy.
It wasn't so much about comparing Lucius to Ted, who didn't seem to have a cold or calculating bone in his body. It was simply that when Andromeda looked at Malfoy, she knew this was not someone she ever wanted to link her life with.
And when she thought of Ted, it wasn't really about comparing him to Malfoy, either, though it was true that even at sixteen, she could picture Ted as a husband and a father in ways that seemed downright impossible with Malfoy.
No, it was simply that Ted was funny and kind and made her laugh and had a gorgeous smile that made her stomach go funny every time. It was simply that being around Ted made her happy.
She found him in the corridor between classes, managed to slip up next to him, slide her hand in his and whisper in his ear, "I want to be your girlfriend, Ted. If you want to."
His head whipped around. "Seriously, Andromeda?"
"Seriously, Ted."
He looked like he wanted to kiss her right there amid the throng of students passing by them, but thought better of it. He squeezed her hand. "Yeah. 'Course I want to."
"I have to get to Potions. See you later."
"Okay. See you later." He stood there grinning after her, and was still grinning when she glanced back once to look at him as she continued down the corridor.
How was it possible, she wondered, for anyone to be as uncomplicated and whole as Ted Tonks was? And could a person like her be with a person like that?
. . . . .
8. Their First Night (Well, Actually Afternoon) Together
It was February and gusts of wind drove snow against the windowpanes, where it collected in the corners, transforming square angles into smooth, white curves.
Since it was a weekend afternoon, the Hufflepuff common room was full of students talking and playing Gobstones or Exploding Snap, but with the aid of a few well-placed Distraction Charms, Ted was able to smuggle Andromeda into the sixth year boys' dorm.
Andromeda took in her surroundings with great interest. It wasn't just that this was a boys' dorm instead of a girls'. The whole style of the place was different, all warm colours and cosy nooks, instead of the ornately carved dark wood and rich brocade draperies of her own room.
This was unfamiliar, but she liked it.
"This one's mine," Ted said, leading her by the hand to an inviting four-poster in one corner, with warm yellow curtains and lots of pillows. Andromeda tried to perch on the edge of the bed and then laughed as she tumbled the rest of the way onto it, the mattress far softer than she'd expected.
Ted followed only seconds later, kicking off his shoes with a thump-thump and toppling down half on top of her.
"Hey!" Andromeda said, pushing Ted's elbow back off of her stomach. He leaned his chin into her shoulder, fixing her with a devious grin.
"Now this is a sight I've been dying to see," he said, his voice going throaty as he reached out to smooth Andromeda's hair where it spread across his pillow.
Andromeda's stomach fluttered as she fully took in the significance of where she was, floating deep in the cloud-like softness of Ted's bed, the weight of his body warm against her side.
She reached out and pulled him closer, and watched Ted's eyes flutter closed as his lips met hers. Fire raced through her from that point where they touched, fire that fed on itself and whispered, more more more.
Andromeda slid her hands up under Ted's T-shirt, a simple Muggle-style garment of a type she herself had never worn, fascinated by the contrast between its cotton softness and the smoothness of Ted's skin. He sighed and smiled and opened his eyes to meet hers. His eyes were so deep and warm, Andromeda felt she could get lost in them. Then he leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck, and she gasped and arched into his touch.
"Can I – can I take this off?" he asked, fingering the hem of her blouse. Andromeda nodded, and they both shrugged awkwardly out of their shirts, giggling as they got tangled up with the pillows and the duvet. And then they were bared to each other more than they had been yet.
Andromeda reached up and ran her hands across the warm skin of Ted's chest. He shuddered and sighed and then did the same, tracing one hand up her side so lightly that she shivered and pulled him more tightly towards her.
She couldn't help thinking of the two boys she'd dated before. With one it had been nothing beyond a little furtive hand-holding and a few kisses, but the other, Marcus Graupel, she'd slept with, out of curiosity more than anything else. Three times in total, and each time it had felt like some bizarre kind of competition.
It hadn't been tender, like this was.
"If you're worried about my roommates, don't be," Ted murmured against her lips. "We've got the room for the afternoon."
"What do you mean?"
Ted leaned back and cocked his head at her, like he wasn't sure what part she wasn't understanding. "I asked the guys if we could have the room to ourselves for the afternoon."
"You did?" Andromeda asked, torn between being mortified and amused to learn that all the boys Ted lived with knew exactly what they were doing in here. "And what did they say?"
"They said sure. Why wouldn't they?"
Andromeda imagined trying to do the same thing in Slytherin, where your roommates might let you have the room for the purpose of getting off with a bloke, but only so they could hold it over your head later. Ted Tonks, she thought, if ever I needed proof you come from a different world, this might be it.
Misinterpreting her thoughtful expression, Ted hastened to add, "I mean – that doesn't mean I'm expecting anything, you know?" His hand groped to find hers, his expression earnest. "There's no goal, Andromeda, really. I just want to make you feel good."
And Andromeda gazed back into those warm brown eyes and thought, Yes, this one. I want this one.
. . . . .
9. The First One to Come of Age
Of the two of them, Andromeda was the first to turn seventeen, older by barely a month. A package arrived from her parents, by its size and weight clearly the traditional pocket watch presented to witches and wizards at their coming of age.
Ted sat with Andromeda in their favourite nook at the back of the library as she opened it, because she'd asked him to be there. She had a strange, sinking feeling like this marked the end of something.
But of course it wasn't an end. If anything, it was a beginning. The start of the part of her life where she got to make her own decisions.
The watch, once she'd lifted it out of the rich, black velvet in which it nestled, proved to be silver, stunningly expensive, and – though Andromeda was loathe to admit it – quite beautiful, its features perfectly balanced and its tick-tick subtle in her hand.
Andromeda gazed down at the watch she held and fought a prickling in her eyes, but didn't cry.
Ted leaned in and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, strong and warm, and didn't say anything, didn't ask anything, just pressed a kiss against her temple.
Andromeda reached around with her other hand until her arm was wrapped around him too, and held on.
. . . . .
10. The First Time Andromeda Stayed with Ted's Family
Andromeda lied to her family that summer, feeling only a twinge of guilt, lied and told them she was saying with a friend, then escaped to Ted's house for three wonderful weeks.
She'd never experienced anything like Ted's parents, who were warm and funny and told jokes over the dinner table. They raised their voices, sure, but only because they were so eager about the things they wanted to tell each other. And they accepted Andromeda, in all her strangeness and difference from anything they knew in their world, without a moment's hesitation.
"You'll stay here with Ted in his room," Ted's mum had said as she showed Andromeda around their small house, and Andromeda blinked in surprise but certainly didn't argue. Over dinner, she dared to reach out and openly hold Ted's hand.
"Come on," Ted said, after that first dinner together with his family. "I want to show you something."
He led her to a room that turned out to be his mother's study. She was a professor of history, Ted explained, still an unusual thing for a Muggle woman to be. Her study was lined floor to ceiling with books.
A whole room of Muggle history. Andromeda was only now realising just how much she didn't know.
"Thought you might like this, since you're so interested in history," Ted said. Then a little ruefully, taking in her rapt expression, "I'm not going to see you the rest of the time you're here, am I?"
Andromeda tore her eyes away from the books and leaned in to kiss him. "Don't be silly."
That night, she took Ted to bed with her, but she took a book on the "Early Modern History of the British Isles" too.
. . . . .
11. The First Time They Talked about the Future
Andromeda had never been so unhappy to return to Hogwarts as she was in the autumn of her seventh year.
Something was deeply wrong in the wizarding world, yet no one in Andromeda's family or wider social circle was talking about it. Oh, her parents made satisfied little noises about this self-styled Dark Lord, pleased that someone with "sense" was finally gaining influence. But they never said war. They never said using Unforgivable Curses against members of the Ministry. They never said unexplained disappearances. They spoke as if the Dark Lord's rise to power were simply something that was happening of its own accord, right and inevitable.
Returning to Hogwarts should have felt like an escape from the twisted logic of her parents' insular world, but to Andromeda it only felt even more claustrophobic.
In those three brief weeks at Ted's parents' house, Andromeda had learned what it was like to be in love openly, to hold Ted's hand, to kiss him if she felt like it, to spend every day with him if she felt like it (and she did). She chafed at their return to secrecy, to clandestine late-night meetings and whispered messages in the halls. She wanted to be in love in public and damn the consequences.
But she didn't quite dare.
It was a near miracle, really, that they hadn't been discovered yet, in an entire year of dating right under her housemates' noses. Andromeda was only glad Bellatrix had finished school before she and Ted had really got to know each other, because Bellatrix would have seen through them in a second. Narcissa, at least, could generally be counted on to remain self-absorbed unless it suited her to be otherwise.
Less than a month into the school year, out of the blue one afternoon as they were sitting together working on their Charms homework at a table at the back of the library, Ted said, "So – I don't know – can you see a future for us?"
Andromeda whipped her head around to make sure no other students were within earshot.
"Oh, don't worry, of course I made sure no one could hear us. I'm not stupid," Ted said, sounding weary. "The point is, Andromeda, I get it, I get the need for secrecy while we're still at school, and you're living under your parents' roof. I understand that. But am I kidding myself to think that someday we might be able to be together, fully? You talk about everything else, but you never talk about that."
The invisible bands that seemed to be wrapped around Andromeda's chest at all times these days, even when she was asleep in her bed in the seventh year girls' dorm, seemed to cinch a notch tighter.
"I don't know, Ted," she snapped. "Why ask me a question you know I can't answer?"
"Because when all's said and done, it shouldn't be that difficult a question!" He looked around them, and lowered his voice again. "Is it so much to ask to know whether or not, if it does come down to it someday, you would choose me?"
"Yes, that is a great deal to ask," Andromeda said, fingers clenching around her quill. "You don't know what it's like, Ted. I know you think you know, but you don't. Everything's more complicated when you come from a family like mine."
"Oh, yes, your pure-blood life is so difficult, isn't it?" Ted's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Try being Muggle-born! When there's a psychopath on the loose who's explicitly said he wants to eradicate everyone like you and is gaining followers every day, and everyone acts like this is a more or less normal thing to be happening! And you think it's so very sad and difficult to be pure-blood?"
Andromeda glared across the table at him. It didn't help that he was right. "What do you want from me Ted? What do you want me to say?"
"Give me something here, Andromeda. Throw me a scrap. Tell me where you see us in a year, after we've finished Hogwarts. What then?"
"I can't tell you that, because I don't know! I'm not going to make you a promise I don't know for certain I can keep! I'm no Seer, and most Divination is a load of centaur dung, anyway. So don't make me a liar, Ted, please."
"Fine." Ted breathed out heavily through his nose. "Fine."
"Now, can we finish this Charms assignment, or are you going to have another existential crisis at me?"
Ted gave her a long, hard stare over the schoolbooks scattered across the table. His tone utterly belying his words, he said, "All right."
. . . . .
12. The First Time Andromeda Took a Stand in Public
Andromeda turned a corner in a lesser-used corridor on the seventh floor and walked straight into a scene out of a nightmare.
Three hooded Death Eaters – no, not Death Eaters, just stupid schoolboys in crudely homemade black robes – were drawn in close and menacing around a young boy, a Muggle-born first- or second-year, who cowered against the wall, his face white with fear. And trying to get between the boy and his assailants, right at that moment trying to shoulder his way in between two of the louts – was Ted.
Andromeda sucked in a panicked breath, seeing visions of Ted on the floor, bloodied or worse, after trying to take on all three of them in a fight. Andromeda, these brutes would spare – she was a girl and a pure-blood – but Ted they would not.
"Ted!" she said, sharp and loud, to get his attention. He spun around, surprised. "Get out of here, now."
One of the three was already pulling out his wand. Ted hesitated, thrown off by Andromeda's appearance but unwilling to abandon the boy. Andromeda knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was moments away from getting a Cruciatus to the back. She made her voice more commanding and forceful than she'd ever known she could.
"I can handle this, but I need you to leave, right now. Get out."
Ted wavered, still, but Andromeda had no more time to spare for him as she turned her attention to the three bullies, starting with a fast Expelliarmus to disarm the one who'd been about to curse Ted, then a Biting Jinx to distract the second most dangerous-looking one.
"Get out," she repeated, not sparing Ted another glance, and to her great relief, she heard him step away and retreat down the hall.
Within minutes, she had the three would-be Death Eaters disarmed and lined up against the wall, the young Muggle-born boy standing to one side, shaking and frightened, but unharmed.
Andromeda pulled off the three boys' hoods – all Slytherins, of course. Merlin but it made her blood boil to see her house, once the province of the cleverest, most resourceful, most independent-minded wizards, reduced to this – loutish, mindless imitation of whoever could prove themselves the most powerful and cruel.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't report you to the Headmaster," Andromeda hissed.
She herself could name one very good reason, actually: These three boys had just become witnesses to the fact that Andromeda Black was on friendly, first-name terms with a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and no matter how idiotic they might be, they surely hadn't forgotten that in the few minutes that had since elapsed.
They shuffled their feet and didn't meet her eyes, mortified at having been disarmed by a girl.
"Get out of here," she said. "And if you ever do anything like this again to a defenceless student, believe me, I will find out and I will make your lives miserable." She tossed their wands at their feet. "I mean it! Scram! Don't make me look at you another minute, or I'll change my mind."
Finally goaded into motion, they scrabbled for their wands, then took off down the corridor at a pace that was trying to be dignified, but didn't succeed at all.
Andromeda turned to the young Muggle-born boy, who was still shaking and staring at her with wide eyes. She didn't even know his name.
Hating to the core of her being that she had to talk to him this way, as if any of this were his fault, she said, "That was foolish, walking around alone in a deserted corridor. Don't do that again, do you hear me? Always take a friend with you, always walk in pairs. I don't want to hear that something bad happened to you because you were careless, all right?"
The boy nodded, wide-eyed.
"Go on," she said, her voice gentler. "Get to class, or wherever you were going. You're fine."
"Thanks," he whispered, then turned and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction from the way the others had gone.
Andromeda leaned against the wall, her wand still in her hand, and realised she was shaking. She didn't know if it was from rage or fear or grief. Maybe all three. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally again.
"Andromeda."
Her eyes snapped open to find Ted in front of her, his eyes almost as wide as those of the young boy she'd just rescued, staring at her with a complicated expression she couldn't begin to fathom, admiring and conscience-stricken and distraught.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant for you–"
"Come here," she said, aware even as the words left her lips that she was doing an awful lot of ordering Ted around today.
She pushed herself away from the wall just long enough to grab Ted by the shoulders and pull him towards her. They collapsed gracelessly back against the wall together, and Andromeda pulled Ted's face to hers and kissed him as hard as she could.
"Don't do that ever again," she gasped, when she could speak again. "Don't step in, don't be the hero, let someone else do that, someone who's not a target themselves, please, Ted. I can't lose you, okay? I love you too much."
Ted stared back at her with wide eyes. Had she never said that before, that she loved him? It was something she thought every day.
Wordlessly, Ted leaned in and kissed her again, this time gentle and soft and endlessly sweet. Tears sprang to Andromeda's eyes, how stupid, why was she crying?
"I love you too," Ted whispered.
. . . . .
13. The First Time Andromeda Took a Stand with Her Family
All that Christmas holiday, Andromeda felt like a bowstring about to snap. If only Bellatrix weren't still living at home, Andromeda might have been able to hold her tongue. Father's ignorant braying and Mother's bigoted asides she could have withstood, but Bellatrix ought to have known better.
Betrothed since the summer, to be married in the spring and swollen with her sense of self-importance, Bellatrix wasted no opportunity to mention how important her fiancé was, what influential people he'd introduced her to, what exciting opportunities she was privy to, now that he escorted her to all the most select gatherings. Why, she'd even met the Dark Lord in person, fancy that!
"And you're so sure that's something to boast about?" Andromeda demanded, her patience finally fraying to the breaking point.
Unfortunately, that point occurred just before Christmas dinner, with all of the extended family scattered around the drawing room. Even Uncle Alphard was here this time.
Bellatrix turned and fixed the full weight of her dark-eyed stare on Andromeda, and it was all Andromeda could do not to flinch. Bellatrix had always been the strongest personality in their family of strong-willed individuals.
"Andromeda," she drawled, drawing the name out into something vaguely threatening. "I hear funny rumours about you from Hogwarts, you know. I imagine you think you can do anything you like there and no one outside the school will hear about it, but that's a tad naïve, don't you think?"
"Whatever you're insinuating, just spit it out, Bellatrix," Andromeda snapped, in no mood to be toyed with. Across the room, she noticed Uncle Alphard lift his head, listening to them. Thankfully, Father and Uncle Orion were still absorbed in their own conversation, though that wouldn't last long if Bellatrix decided she was out for the kill.
"Muggle-born friends," Bellatrix murmured, lips lifting delicately as if she could barely stand to say the word. "I always knew your standards weren't what they could be, but that? It makes me so sad to think of my sister…lowering herself."
"Who I'm friends with is none of your business," Andromeda said, but that was the very problem, it was Bellatrix's business. For as long as Andromeda was part of this family, everything she did would be their business.
Bellatrix leaned closer over the arm of her chair. "It's my business if you start getting funny ideas," she murmured. "You're not planning to make little half-breeds, are you? Because I hear there's a boy you've been seen around with a great deal. Some…Tonks fellow, apparently."
Andromeda's insides turned to ice. No, no, no, Bellatrix couldn't know about Ted. Merlin knew what she would do to Ted. "Oh, don't be ridiculous," she said in her very best imperious Black daughter voice. "You think I would date him? We're study partners, that's all."
Bellatrix sniffed. "Doesn't say much for you if you need a Mudblood to help you with your schoolwork."
Andromeda drove her fingernails into her palms to stop herself shouting, Don't say that word. "Don't be absurd, I'm the one who helps him," she said coolly. "If you're desperate to accuse me of something, then accuse me of being too nice. I don't see what concern of yours it is, though."
Bellatrix's eyes pierced hers. "See to it that it doesn't become my concern, then."
To Andromeda's great relief, Mother summoned them to dinner then. As they all rose and moved towards the dining room, Uncle Alphard caught her eye and she thought she saw him nod, just the tiniest bit. She had no idea how much he'd overheard, but at least he didn't seem inclined to tell Father about it.
That night, she lay in her childhood bed unable to sleep, the words she'd spoken heavy and bitter on her tongue. Why hadn't she said, Ted is brilliant at Charms despite his so-called "dirty" blood, so obviously you don't know what you're talking about? For that matter, why hadn't she said, Yes, he's my boyfriend, want to make something of it?
What did she risk, really, if she said what she truly felt? Disapproval, probably disownment, but not her life. Ted was the one who was at risk every day, and she only made it worse for him when she didn't speak up, when she played along with the accepted fallacies that Muggle-born wizards were stupid and unworthy.
How many more of their family would fall into those beliefs, simply for lack of anyone to teach them better? Would Sirius be brainwashed into believing them? Would Regulus?
Andromeda knew she was half a year away from making a decision that would change the course of her life, one way or another. She had to get through that half year and then, she swore to herself, she would never again lie about what she believed.
. . . . .
14. The First Pieces Andromeda Put in Place
She and Ted had come to something of a truce. They did talk about the future sometimes, but in general terms – for example, how it might be nice if they could find a small flat somewhere in London, especially if they both got jobs at the Ministry as they hoped. Now more than ever was a time for getting inside the places where decisions were taken, and trying to do some good.
But the specifics of it, how and when and whether that dream could ever be a reality for them, that was Andromeda's to figure out. She didn't want to promise Ted anything until she knew for sure she could pull it off.
The first Hogsmeade weekend of the new term, she Apparated to London, walked through the imposing front doors of Gringotts and requested a transfer of the share of the Black family gold that was rightfully hers – thank Merlin she was of age – into a separate account in her own name. She tried not to stare open-mouthed when the goblin who managed the account informed her of the total sum in her family's vault. They wouldn't even notice the comparatively small amount she'd taken, that was certain.
While in Diagon Alley, Andromeda also consulted a wizarding legal expert whose address she'd looked up. He gave her a sad-eyed and knowing look as he reassured her that the gold she had just transferred would indeed remain in her possession even in the event of disownment. He, too, bore a surname that belonged to one of the oldest and most snobbish wizarding families, but Andromeda didn't ask.
She hadn't told Ted where she was going, only that she had business to take care of in London. When arrived back that evening, pretending for the sake of professors and prefects that she'd been in Hogsmeade all day, she saw the questions in Ted's eyes, but he didn't ask.
Then, seeing how pensive she looked, he provided distraction by taking her down the dead-end corridor past the Hufflepuff common room where they often sat, tucked together in a corner on a blanket Ted brought from his room – it wasn't the most comfortable spot, but at least they were rarely disturbed, and if they were, it was by harmless Hufflepuffs – and teaching her a silly new version of wizarding chess he and his mates had invented that day. And Andromeda smiled back at him, and asked in great detail about the game's rather illogical rules, and let him distract her from her thoughts.
With every kind or gentle thing he did, Andromeda only grew more certain. She loved her family and she always would, even if she sometimes wished she could just shut off that feeling. The very idea of walking out of her childhood home, knowing she would never set foot over its threshold again, was almost impossible to conceive.
But walking away from Ted? It wasn't even an option.
. . . . .
15. The First Time Andromeda Talked to Her Sisters about Love
Andromeda and Narcissa received special permission to leave Hogwarts for Bellatrix's wedding the first weekend in May. In fact, all the children of high-society families invited to the event received the same dispensation.
Which meant that there was smarmy Lucius Malfoy in the second row, smirking up at both her and Narcissa, where they stood at Bellatrix's side.
Bellatrix, it had to be said, looked stunning, with her thick, dark hair spilling down over her bare shoulders and her snow white gown. Narcissa also looked delicately lovely in her baby blue bridesmaid dress. Andromeda just felt out of place, and wished Ted were there to crack some joke and allow her to feel normal again.
Ted at her sister's wedding – right, that would be sure to go down a treat.
At the reception afterwards, Narcissa sat straight-backed in her chair at their side of the head table and surveyed the room like a queen looking out over her dominion.
"Oh, I like him," she would say, chin lifting in the direction of one of the profusion of pure-blood scions milling about the place. Or, with a malicious titter, "Can you believe they showed up? That was a pity invitation, anyone with an ounce of sense could see that."
Was I once like that? Andromeda wondered. This self-absorbed, blinkered, only seeing what the family wanted me to see? Caring so much about shallow things?
She'd said to Bellatrix, as they were helping her dress just before the ceremony and Andromeda was trying very hard to set aside their differences and be a supportive sister, despite the fact that she couldn't stand Rodolphus Lestrange, "I'm glad for you, Bella. I'm sure you'll be happy together, if you love him."
And Bellatrix had laughed right in her face and said, "Love? Love doesn't enter into it!" Then she had tossed her head as if to say Andromeda was being very silly and naïve.
It gave Andromeda chills every time those words replayed in her head.
Still, she felt she had to try again with Narcissa.
"Think they'll be happy together, Cissy?" she asked, trying to pull Narcissa's attention back from her devastating dissection of the dance floor.
"Oh, yes," Narcissa breathed, only sparing Andromeda half a glance before her gaze returned to the crowd. "It's such a good match. For me, though? I want something more."
"Yes?" Andromeda asked, hoping against hope that Narcissa would say, I want to be with someone I love, someone who respects me.
"My husband will need to be rather a lot more handsome, I think," Narcissa giggled. "Rodolphus is so sour-looking! He always looks like he'd rather be somewhere else, don't you think? I want a man who's suave."
Andromeda wasn't imagining it – Narcissa's eyes had once again lighted on Malfoy. "You're the lucky one, really, Dromeda," Narcissa murmured.
You can have him, Andromeda thought. Gods, you have no idea how much I wish you would.
A month and a half until the end of the school year. A month and a half until she could break free. Surely she could hold Mother off that long from getting it in her head to declare her middle daughter betrothed to Lucius Malfoy?
. . . . .
16. The First Pieces Ted Put in Place
Ted came back from the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year pink-cheeked with excitement, more breathlessly eager than she'd seen him in a while. This time, he was the one who'd disappeared to London for the day, and Andromeda was the one who'd politely not asked what he was up to.
"Andromeda!" he said, as soon as he'd tracked her down in the library. "Come on. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."
"What? Where are we going?" But even as she spoke, she was stacking together her papers and books and sliding them into her schoolbag, because Ted never interrupted her revising. If he was doing so now, she could assume he had a good reason.
She followed him out of the library and down to the entrance hall, where they checked around for professors, then slipped out of the doors to the school grounds.
They made their way to the lake and the shelter of one of the willow trees, before Ted turned to Andromeda and caught her hands.
"Andromeda," he said again.
"Ted. Yes?"
He took a deep breath. "I found a place in London. I know we were going to wait and see about looking after we finish the term, but the price was good – it's a wizard renting out this sort of forgotten half-basement space in a Muggle building, so it's bigger on the inside than it looks outside, and it's on a Muggle street, but it's really near to Diagon Alley, if we want to go there too–" Here he had to pause for breath. "Anyway, I went ahead and paid the security deposit, so he would hold it for us. We could move in there in mid-June. Six-month commitment, to start with. And the price is reasonable, really, so what I'm saying is, I could afford it on my own, too. So please don't think this means you're obliged to do anything you don't want to do, okay? I just want you to know that it's there if you want it."
Andromeda stared back at him, floored at the mental picture his words conjured up. A home of their own. A home that was not just a dream, a fantasy, but a flat that actually existed, just off Diagon Alley, and Ted had already paid a deposit, so it was real. It was theirs.
"You're not cross with me, are you?" Ted asked. "I should have waited, but it was too good a chance to pass up."
"Cross? Of course I'm not cross. Ted–"
"Don't say anything now," Ted whispered, pulling her closer. His breath was warm against her cheek. "I don't need an answer. I just wanted you to know – we've got a place we can live together, if we want. Okay?"
Andromeda nodded hard, her cheek brushing his. "Yes. Yes, absolutely." She reached up and tipped his head down towards hers, so she could meet his lips, hoping the kiss could serve to say all the things she was not yet able to say.
. . . . .
17. The First Unspoken Promise
They sat the first of their N.E.W.T.s the same day the news came out that the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had "resigned" – in other words, been coerced or intimidated into stepping down, so he could be replaced by someone sympathetic to the "Dark Lord." Voldemort, as he called himself, was still working from the shadows, but clearly not for long.
Andromeda knew it was a bit mad to want to work for the Ministry in this climate, but she was desperate to get in there, somewhere and somehow, and be a small voice of reason. She'd received a provisory offer of a position as an administrative assistant to the Wizengamot. Pending satisfactory results on her N.E.W.T.s, of course, but by this point N.E.W.T.s seemed like the least of her concerns.
She and Ted met down near the edge of the forest just before sitting the first exam – Transfiguration – to wish each other luck. It seemed absurd to Andromeda that the wizarding world as she knew it could be falling apart even as the natural world was bursting headily into bloom, the trees in full leaf and birds chirping above their heads.
"Don't even know why I'm bothering to wish you luck," Ted said, holding her close. "You'll do brilliantly, as always."
"So will you and you know it."
"Funny, isn't it?" Ted murmured into the side of her neck. "We met because of Transfiguration. Well, in a sense."
"No, we met because you have no sense of propriety and came up to pester me at a Quidditch match," Andromeda countered, reaching up to thread a hand through his hair.
"One or the other," Ted agreed, and Andromeda could hear the smile in his voice. Then, more seriously, he added, "That was two years ago already, can you believe it?"
"Ted–" Andromeda started, hands tightening on his arms. "After N.E.W.T.s, after the leaving ceremony and everything, I–" She couldn't finish the sentence.
I want to be with you, she wanted to say. From the moment we leave this place, please, let's never be apart again. But her fear held her back. The last few nights, she'd been jerking awake from dreams in which her family found out about her plans too early, and came to take her away from Hogwarts before she could finish her exams and collect her belongings and get free.
"You don't have to say anything," Ted said, his voice warm and reassuring against her ear. "Let's get through our N.E.W.T.s first, okay? I hear they're supposed to be Nastily Exhausting, so we're probably gonna want all our attention for that."
That was her Ted, her solid rock. Andromeda smiled and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "All right. Ready to get Nastily Exhausted, then?"
"Ready when you are."
She squeezed his hand, then dropped it, and they walked up the lawn to the castle side by side.
. . . . .
18. The First Spoken Promise
They posed together in the sunshine for a photograph snapped by one of Ted's friends. The leaving ceremony had just finished; soon they would climb into the boats that would row them back across the lake, the same way they had arrived as first-years. Ted's arm was slung around her shoulders, there in front of everyone, and Andromeda squeezed him around the middle, and she didn't care. Everyone was going to know soon enough.
The friend with the camera retreated again, and Narcissa finally stopped hovering. She was clearly hoping for a picture with Andromeda too, but Andromeda had no patience for her, not right now. They'd rowed again the night before; Narcissa had clearly caught the scent that something was going on with Andromeda and she'd been ferretting endlessly, trying to figure out what it was.
Andromeda knew she ought to try to placate her sister, buy herself a last few peaceful hours, but at the moment she couldn't be bothered with Narcissa's pettiness, not when her whole heart was bursting with new joy.
She turned to Ted – Ted who had been so patient, not trying to pin her down on the details, Ted who had simply let her know he would move into the new flat today and she could come whenever she liked, never demanding to know when or if she would truly be able to join him there – and lifted up on her tiptoes so her lips could reach his ear. He leaned accommodatingly closer.
"All right, this is how it's going to go," Andromeda whispered, pitching her voice just for him to hear. "We're going to cross the lake, then we're going to ride the Hogwarts Express, then I'm going to go home just long enough to get any last belongings I need to salvage and tell my family that I'm leaving – and probably get disowned in the process, but, well, you can't have everything – and then we're going to go home to our new flat, okay? I'll meet you there tonight."
Ted turned and blinked hard at her, his eyes comically wide. "Wait…really?"
"Yes, Ted, of course. What did you think?"
"I thought – I don't know. I really couldn't know." He was still blinking fast, and Andromeda was stunned to realise he was trying not to cry. In two years of seeing him nearly every day, Andromeda had never seen Ted cry.
Too moved to know what to say, Andromeda flung her arms around him and held on hard. Ted's arms wrapped tightly around her, her favourite feeling in the world.
"I really, really want to kiss you right now," he whispered into her hair.
"Wait just – just a few hours, okay?" Andromeda said, laughing and blinking hard herself and overwhelmed by emotion. "There's going to be time for that. So much time."
Ted's arms around her went even tighter. "Andromeda – are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?"
What Andromeda had figured out by now was that she could have Ted or she could have the world she knew, and there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted Ted.
"Never been more sure of anything," she said.
Ted chuckled, warm and throaty against her ear. "Me neither."
. . . . .
19. The First Time They Went Home Together
Ted opened the front door of the flat to Andromeda with tear streaks down her cheeks and her school trunk dragging behind her, and just folded her into his arms.
"That bad?" he murmured, and Andromeda nodded against his chest.
They wrestled her trunk through the door, and Ted made her tea, and they sat together on the threadbare couch that was one of the flat's few furnishings.
She should have known, of course. There had never been any way she was going to be able to leave gently. But now all she could think was that the last words she'd spoken to her mother, quite possibly forever, had been in anger with her voice raised, and that was a horrible thing to live with for the rest of her life.
Andromeda had told her mother about Ted, trying to keep the conversation as factual and non-confrontational as possible, but her mother had called Ted – without even knowing him! – names so vile it made Andromeda's throat ache even to remember them, and Andromeda had lost it and screamed, I hate you! Then she'd flung her watch, the one her parents had sent her when she came of age, on the floor at her mother's feet and thrown herself out of the house, before her mother could have the pleasure of doing it for her.
"I'm never going back there," Andromeda said, numb with the shock of it, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug of tea and Ted's arms wrapped around her. "I'm never going back there again."
"I'm so sorry, my love," Ted said, holding her tight and stroking one hand through her hair. Andromeda closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
"You don't have to be sorry," she said. "Please, Ted, do that for me. Don't ever be sorry for this. I made the right decision, the absolute best decision I can imagine. This is where I want to be."
Ted shifted beside her, and Andromeda could actually feel him casting about for something that would lighten her mood.
"Well, yeah, in principle, but exactly here?" he said. "Four dingy walls and three pieces of furniture to our name?"
Andromeda cracked open one eye, took in the bare walls of the flat, the worn furniture, their two travelling trunks at a skew in the middle of the floor, not yet unpacked. It didn't look like much at the moment, but with a coat of fresh paint and some new furniture – they could explore the Muggle flea markets together at the weekends, something she'd always wanted to do – Andromeda could easily picture the home this would be.
Perhaps they would paint the walls that warm Hufflepuff yellow that Ted seemed to love, and they would fill the rooms with shelves and shelves of books. Oh, the books Andromeda was going to buy, now that all of London lay at their feet.
She sat up straighter, the first shock wearing off.
It was going to be fun, fixing up this flat with Ted. It would be a place entirely theirs, where no one else's opinions counted but their own. And every day she would go to her job and work as hard as she could, and at the end of the day she would come home here, to Ted.
"Yes," she said. "Exactly here."
Smiling, Andromeda leaned over to kiss Ted, because that was how she wanted to remember this, their first day together in their own home.
. . . . .
The End