A/N: still don't own it.
Platform 9, King's Cross Station. A bright, sunny morning, at exactly ten to ten.
History was about to be made.
Ted Tonks and his mother were killing time before the train departed, by promenading down the platform, arm in arm, singing at the tops of their voices with the sole intention of annoying the commuters.
"People think we're mad, Mum," Ted laughed at the end of I Wanna Hold Your Hand, "they'll call the nut house on us."
"People, people, I'm sick of hearing about bloody people!" his mother declared, throwing her hands in the air with mock desperation, "Edward, what have I always told you?"
"Always eat your broccoli?"
"Close, but no..."
"Always say please and thank you?"
"Still no..."
He was teasing her now, teasing his dear old mum. "Care about no one's opinion but your own?"
"Thank you!" she cried, grabbing his arm again and linking it with her own, "Care about no one's opinion but your own. And then you can be free, see?"
"I think you took too many drugs in the sixties, Mum," he laughed.
"Don't be cheeky, Ted! I was raising you in the sixties thank you very much; I had no time for drugs!" but she smiled, and clutched his arm tighter, trying not to think of that dreaded moment when the train pulled away, pulling her son with it, and leaving her all alone again. "How about a bit of Joplin, my boy? What d'you think?"
Ted laughed, and glanced around him. The commuters seemed surprised by this tall pair, so obviously related with their messy blonde hair and red-as-roses lips. "They don't seem to be much of a Joplin crowd, Mum..." he thought for a moment, "P'raps another Beatles song?"
"Right you are, darling," she said seriously, and then cleared her throat. "Early or late?"
"I'm thinking Sergeant Pepper, but not the Sergeant Pepper song itself?"
"Good call," she tightened the belt on her coat, and drew herself up to her full height (five foot nine, if you're interested), "I read the news today, oh boy..."
And the commuters getting on the Platform-Nine-five-to-ten-to-Bristol-Temple-Meads watched as the strange looking mother and son muddled their way through A Day In The Life with smiles on their faces and a spring in their step.
This was not the history about to be made.
Andromeda leant against the mantelpiece in the drawing room, feeling as out of place as a sunflower in the snow, and waiting for her sisters. It was strange to be out of her room, to be able to wander the corridors of the grand house, or to hide in the alcoves with a book taken from Cissy's room. Alas, she had barely any time to get used to it before the great grandfather clock in the Entrance Hall struck five to ten, and she hurried to the drawing room. Her mother was sat in a very tall armchair, black satin with snakes stitched into the back. It always made Andromeda feel uncomfortable, that chair; she could feel the snake's eyes on her. She'd expressed this fear as a small child, and her mother had laughed cruelly, and made her sit in it all evening. She said it was so that Andromeda could see it was just a chair, but privately Andromeda thought it was so that the guests at the party could laugh at her ridiculous fear. It still stung.
Mrs Black sat there, embroidering some kind of bed cover, and keeping one watchful eye on the clock that sat on the mantelpiece.
Eventually, Andromeda spoke. "Where are Bella and Cissy?"
"Late," her mother replied, not looking at her, "obviously. Did Flibbit bring your trunk down?"
She nodded, and gestured to the wooden box that lay on the floor by her side, covered in tiny little ADBs. "Should I go and get them?" she asked, "Bella and Cissy that is?"
"I wish you wouldn't wear Muggle clothes, darling," her mother said, ignoring her question, "it degrades you."
Andromeda Black had heard many stupid things in her life.
A third year called Bertha Jorkins had once told her that if you eat dragon dung, you live forever.
She'd heard that Professors McGonagall and Beery had been engaged, and the whole reason he left was because she broke off said engagement (a lie, he went to teach at W.A.D.A).
Narcissa swore blind that if you could hold your breath for longer than a minute, the Ministry of Magic officially recognised you as a merperson.
Lucius Malfoy said there were Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest.
But this, this dressing as a Muggle degrades you, had to take the absolute Ginger Newt.
She counted to ten in her head, to make sure she didn't snap (snapping would only make it worse), and said "Mother, I don't see what's degrading about it; it's comfortable, and it doesn't attract attention."
"It's making you pretend you're something you're not," her mother responded, setting down her embroidery, "you're a pureblood witch, Andromeda, not some...nothing."
"Muggles aren't nothing, Mother," she said calmly (although her insides were boiling with rage) "they're people too."
"They're not magic!" her mother replied sternly, "What can they do if they're not magic!"
"Loads of things..." she tried desperately to remember what Professor Spinnet had said, about electrics and plugs, "they can do loads of things, Mother!"
But Druella wasn't listening. "And as for those Mudbloods you have to attend school with, well...I'd pull you out if I didn't know that nowhere else could educate you as well as Hogwarts can! Beauxbatons is all well and good, but..." she gestured, as if she expected Andromeda to understand what she meant. Andromeda pulled a puzzled face.
"You know what I mean, darling...they're...they're French, and they have a totally different culture to British wizards- did you know they let them drink wine at the dinner table? School children! Drinking wine! Of course, your Aunt thinks it's all wonderfully sophisticated, but it doesn't sit right with me. It's almost as bad as you having to share meals with Mudbloods, dear, I-"
"Sorry?" Andromeda was agog, "What did you just say?"
"I said it's almost as bad as you having to share meals with Mudbloods," her mother replied airily, "hones-"
"Because I can 'catch' it, can't I?" she laughed coldly, "Because eating food with a Mudblood makes me a Mudblood, right?"
"No darling, that's not what I meant," her mother seemed surprised by the reaction, like her bigotry was something that Andromeda was not supposed to pick up on.
"What was it supposed to mean?" she was practically shrieking now and oh how those decorum lessons were wasted on her.
"It was just an offhand comment, darling, no need to get stressed..."
"NO NEED TO GET STRESSED?" Fuck decorum, she thought, "MOTHER DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IGNORANT YOU SOUND? Being Muggleborn makes you no different to anyone else; did no one ever tell you that?"
"Of course it does!" it was a full on battle now, Mrs Black was on her feet, "Of course being Muggleborn makes you different! I knew we shouldn't have let you take those damned Muggle Studies lessons, I knew they would change you, that they would warp your mind!"
"Warp my mind?" Andromeda shouted, "Warp my-? Oh Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, you really are one of the most...you're an idiot. An actual idiot." she flung her hands in the air, exasperated, and sat on her trunk with a sigh.
Her mother still stood, watching her. "Do not," she said, "speak to me like that. Ever."
Andromeda looked at Druella, blue eyes boring into black. "Why? Because you're not an idiot? I think we have just proved that you are."
"Andromeda..."
"It's bad enough that you locked me up all summer, now you want me to be alright with your stupid, outdated views? Really?"
"Andromeda..." Mrs Black resisted the urge to draw her wand.
"I know Bella keeps saying that the purebloods will rise again and whatnot, but it's just a fad going around school, there's no substance doing it, all it is, is a few bits of rubbish graffiti and the odd duel between fifth years, it's hardly a revolution-"
"ANDROMEDA!" her mother shouted over her daughter's rant. The girl rolled her eyes.
The silence was deafening.
This was not the history about to be made.
Ten o'clock in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time, September the first nineteen seventy one. Andromeda Black, still fuming from her fight with her mother, slouched behind her family as they walked- nay, glided- into King's Cross Station. Cissy was chattering nineteen to the dozen with Bellatrix, about the silly twelve year old things that occupy the mind of silly twelve year olds. Bellatrix was nodding sympathetically, but Andromeda noticed that she was keeping one eye on the crowd, as if she was watching for something- or someone. Their mother was marching ahead, gazing at everyone with disdain. She looked, Andromeda thought, like she permanently had dog muck under her nose.
They'd Side Along-Apparated there, clutching arms and praying that they wouldn't get Splinched. This time next year, she thought to herself, this time next year I'll be able to go on my own, I won't have to tag along with these cretins.
A little cruel, though, to call Cissy a cretin. She lived in fairy land, in a world that could not be tainted by pureblood fanaticism, or ignorant mothers. Andromeda envied her.
In the distance, the girls and their mother could hear the chimes of Big Ben.
"This is ridiculous, Mother." Bellatrix said, "Why on Earth did we have to get here so damned early?"
"So you can get the best seats, darling," Mrs Black replied, with a wave of a thin hand, "come along."
Bellatrix and Narcissa ran to follow their mother, who had stormed ahead, as regal and as frightening as ever.
Andromeda, on the other hand, fell behind, dragging her boots as she went. She kept her eyes fixed on the cold concrete floor, concentrating on the cracks and the stains and the scuff marks of eternity's feet. She tread the path she'd walked what felt like a gazillion times before, across the bridge and down into Platform Nine, her thoughts happening too fast and too frequently for her to understand them. Bellatrix was in love with Rodolphus; or perhaps she wasn't, perhaps they were just friends? Merlin, she missed Carrie, she could tell Carrie everything, everything about what had happened at Diagon Alley, and Ted Tonks. Ted Tonks' cheekbones...Ted Tonks and his husky chuckle, Ted Tonks' floppy hair and his battered denim jacket, Ted Tonks- WHAM!
Andromeda was sent flying, and she landed, sprawled on the concrete, arms outstretched.
"Oh blimey," she heard a voice say, "oh blimey bollocking bugger, I am so, so sorry, Chaser, seriously, I-"
Ted Tonks, she thought, what a man.
She opened her eyes as slowly as she possibly could, for fear of concussion (she wasn't concussed, all was well) and there he was, towering above her and a hand outstretched. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her to her feet.
"Seriously," he said, still clutching her hand, "I am so, so sorry."
"No," she cleared her throat, and brushed the dust and grime from her tights, "no, honestly, Ted, it was my fault; I wasn't looking where I was going..."
"Neither was I!" And he laughed loudly, and the sound of his laughter caused her to smile despite the fact her back was most probably bruised, and her skirt had a rip in it. Ted let go of Andromeda's hand and they began to walk in a comfortable silence, the kind when you've just laughed an awful lot and the air is still filled with the echo of it.
"So..." she said eventually, when the echo had gone and they were nearing the entrance to 9 and 3/4, "sixth year...big deal, huh?"
He shrugged, and Andromeda was surprised by his nonchalance. "Last year was more important," he told her, shoving his hands in his pockets, "how'd'you do, by the way, in the OWLs?"
"Um..." she debated telling him the truth, which was seven Os and an E, because her mother was constantly telling her that good pureblood men were not going to marry annoying know it alls, but perhaps Ted Tonks wasn't like those good pureblood men? There was, of course, only one way to find out.
"I got seven Os and an E," she told him, "highest marks in Slytherin House."
"Impressive," he let out a low whistle, "very impressive, Chaser."
"Thanks," she smiled, "what about you?"
He seemed bashful, and looked away from her. "Urm...eight Os, actually..."
Of course he had, she thought with a grin, of course this wonderfully good looking and funny boy was ridiculously intelligent as well. Of bloody course.
"Flawless Ted Tonks, eh?" she chuckled, "Are you actually perfect?"
"You sound like my mum," he glanced at her with a smirk, "don't take that the wrong way or anything."
"Ah," they bumped shoulders and Andromeda thought that her arm had a galaxy exploding on it, such was the weird tingly sensation she felt, "so you're a mother's boy? Aha! I knew there was something!"
"Nothing wrong with being a mother's boy, Chaser!" he grinned, "She's um...she's probably my best mate, actually..." and he laughed nervously, and scratched the back of his neck.
"That's sweet," Andromeda said carefully (but to be honest, she couldn't understand how one's parent could be one's friend) "my mother...as you have seen, my mother is probably Ellert the Evil reincarnated, so we don't..." she trailed off.
"You don't get on," he finished for her, and she smiled up at him gratefully, "it's cool, I get it. People have difficult relationships with their parents; I'm kind of a minority."
"I bet it's nice though," she sighed, and he nodded.
"Yeah, it's...well, it's...it's just me and her, so it'd be difficult if we hated each other."
"I see," it was like all the stars were aligning, as they wandered up the platform, bumping shoulders and smiling at each other, "I lost my dad too..."
"What?" he seemed so surprised (oh bollocking shit you have fucked things up now Black, you have royally ruined any chance of being mates with this beautiful boy you absolute fucking idiot) "Oh, no, Chaser, my dad's not dead!" he laughed shakily, and she wandered if all was not lost, "No, he's, urm, he's just an arsehole. He...he left, let's just say that."
"Oh. Sorry."
"I'm over it."
She had no idea what to say next...ask him about Quidditch, Black, go on "Are you still commentating this year?"
He smirked at her sudden change of subject; nearly everyone did, of course, not wanting to make it awkward for him. Which was ridiculous, because if it made him feel awkward, he wouldn't have bloody mentioned it.
"Yeah," he told her, "yeah, that's the plan. If McGonagall will let me, you know, that woman's pretty freaking fierce when it comes to games."
"My littlest sister- Narcissa, she's just going into her second year- she calls her the Dragon Lady."
Ted laughed, though there wasn't much funny about it. "Brilliant," he grinned, "I'll have to start calling her that myself."
"Don't get into too much trouble, though, Tonks," she warned him playfully, "you don't want to be thrown out of the commentator's box! I quite enjoy having you narrating my brilliance."
"You're modest, aren't you!" he laughed, and she smiled mockingly, "in all seriousness though, Chaser," he cleared his throat, and looked at the floor, almost as if he were embarrassed, "I quite enjoy narrating your brilliance."
"Good," and she winked at him (where in Circe's name had this confidence come from?) "See you on the train?" She gestured to the gateway, currently full of Longbottoms (she could see Augusta, an old foe of her mother's, shrieking at Frank for losing his toad).
"I'd love to...Andromeda," he glanced at her, and noticed that her eyes were bluer than his, "are we mates now?"
She looked up at him, with a sad half-smile as she thought of her dratted mother and words like Mudblood and purity and honour and nobility and toujours fucking pur, and she said, "Yeah, Ted. I think we're mates."
History had been made.