A/N: I came up with this idea because of a case of writer's block for another one of my stories (Saving Grace for the "Twilight" fandom. If you're a Twilight fan, go check it out.)

There's really not an explaination for this title.

Just for reference: Andromeda's last name is Black here because at the time of this fic, she is not married to Ted Tonks.

Andromeda Black

Rebel Angel

You hate breaking the rules, but tonight, you cannot help it. There is so much pain and fear and dread, you need to be away from the noise of the common room, away from your friends.

You do not need to worry about your sisters. They are disgusted at you; they wouldn't acknowledge your presence if their lives depended on it.

So you walk the halls alone, terrified but determined not to be caught. You will not be the disgrace again.

But Hogwarts is not like home. You do not know where all the good hiding spots were; you can't walk the place blindfolded. You don't even know where the house elves lived, so you could steal some food in the wee hours of the morning.

Anyway, it is not morning. At least, not yet. You had heard the last tolling of the clocks; midnight is still an hour away.

You creep down the corridor, listening for any sounds that would indicate another in your late-night stroll. You do not want to be caught. Not tonight. Appealing to any entity aware, you beg to go through the halls unnoticed. Just this once. For tonight.

You push back raven hair—your family's trademark—and your breathing quickens. You step slowly onto the staircase leading to the bottom floor.

"Please be good," you whisper, trying to appease the staircase, "Please?"

The stairs either like you, or tonight's your lucky night.

You pray for the latter.

If you are to survive this night, you'll need all the luck you can get. If your sisters ever found who you are meeting—

No, you will not think of that. They will never know. They can't.

You pass the corridor that goes to the dungeons. You shiver as the cold air rises to meet you. You press on, telling yourself a Black fears nothing.

It's easier to believe when your father says that while you are in a nice, warm bed, rather than now, in the damp air of Hogwarts Castle.

When you finally make it to the door that leads outside, you pause. Your heart is beating so fast—is there someone watching? Are they following you?

You shake your head. You are being paranoid. No one cares for the third Black daughter, a nobody. And you are only a first-year. There are always bigger fish to fry.

Confident that there are no others, you pad out the door, into the dark night.

It's peaceful, quiet. You love this: the silence of nature, the utter one-ness of everything.

"Hello, Andromeda," a voice whispers behind you, "I didn't know if you would make it."

You will always make it. You want tell him that, but nervousness closes your throat. You try to smile, but the chill of October stops you. He sees, and hands you his cloak.

You huddle in its warmth, thinking of your bed in your dorm, or even of the bed at home waiting for you. You think of its dark green walls, and the emblem mounted behind your bed. When you were younger, it frightened you, the two greyhounds on either side of the sword. You begged your mother to take it away; she refused, angrily telling you it was your legacy. You vowed to yourself to get rid of it.

Nothing came of that vow.

You force your mind back to the present. He is still staring at you, waiting patiently, with a small half grin on his lips.

"Ready?" he asks softly, holding out his hand. You hesitate, glancing from his face to his offered hand before accepting it. You place your smaller fingers in his grip, and gently he pulls you along after him.

"I'm glad you came," he admits, his eyes staying on you. "I was worried."

When you don't answer, he stops. "Andromeda?"

"I—" Why can't you say anything? You risked your family's anger, and being caught, to meet with him. But you can't think of anything to say. He is older, smarter, kinder—why did he choose to talk to you?

He seems to understand. "You don't have to say anything," he assures you. "All you have to do it watch."

You hate surprises almost as much as you hate breaking the rules. You can't imagine what he wants to show you in the middle of the night, but you can't pass it up. When he had passed you that note yesterday in the library, you hadn't thought of what it meant, except that he wanted to spent time with you. After hours. Outside.

You must be stupider than even your sisters think.

But you follow, docile, as he continues his trek across the grounds. Every few moments, he asks a question of you—he doesn't expect an answer, and he doesn't receive one—or says a kind word, or once again convinces you this will be worth it.

His smile is wonderful, you think. You could watch him all day. With his fair hair, he is a stark contrast to you. But looking at your entwined hands with the small light of the stars, you realize his skin is the same pale color of yours. You giggle.

"What is it?" he says quietly.

You manage to speak. "Nothing," you whisper back. Your face is so close to his you can see yourself reflected in his blue eyes. You gasp, which moves your face even closer. He has stopped walking, and you notice his hand did not let go of yours.

"Andromeda," he begins, his voice soft and sweet, and everything a voice should be.

You sense him leaning forward, and you feel yourself inching closer as well. You can smell his unique flavor; you feel his grip on your hand tighten.

He swears suddenly. He gives you a sad look, and says, "If we don't hurry, we'll miss it." Disappointment colors his tone. You can't figure out if its for not kissing you, or if he's worried that you'll miss whatever it is.

"Come on," he urges, and pulls you with him again. You try to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. His very nearness is enough to make you swoon. You hear water within a minute.

He has brought you to the lake.

Excitedly, he points to the sky. "See that star right there?" he asks, showing you a little smudge in the sky. "The little one, right there?"

"Yes?" You aren't sure what is so great about this star, but you try to share his enthusiasm.

"That's the galaxy Andromeda."

You turn to him with wide eyes. It is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you.

That night, you share your very first kiss under your very own galaxy.

The boy can be Ted Tonks, or someone else.

As always, review!