Fourth chapter for my lucky three reviewers!... Oh, god, only three…

Nah, s'all good. Three's my favourite number anyway. So, things get a bit more complex for our heroine in this chapter during one of many encounters with that Tonks fellow. Bon appetite!

J.K. Rowling must be pretty pleased with herself, coz she owns EVERYTHING I am writing about.

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The antechamber is dimly lit, the fire having burnt low and only one torch left guttering on the walls. The door clicks shut with a sharp sound and I look around for Flitwick, alarmed when I realise we're alone. Ted seems unconcerned; he leans one shoulder against the wall next to the small white marble fireplace, shoves his hands in his pockets and stares absently into the flames. I fidget nervously, watching the firelight chase flickers of gold through his hair and feeling tenser by the moment. After just a few seconds of silence, I burst out with: "Where's Professor Flitwick then?"

Ted looks up, amused, and I realise that I sounded almost accusatory, like he's used incarcerous and has Flitwick bound in a cupboard somewhere.

"He's still at the teacher's table, talking to Slughorn. I'm sure he'll be in here soon."

"Right. Yes." I feel like a bit of an idiot so I go over to the mantelpiece too, feigning interest in a slow-ticking metronome with a tiny, swiftly revolving model of a solar system inside. I can feel Ted's eyes on me and I wish Flitwick would hurry up… Don't I? Yes, yes, I do. Ted speaks suddenly, his voice lightly teasing, making me jump and increasing the numb, heavy sensation in my chest and stomach.

"I suppose it's against the rules for you to be alone with me?"

I turn to him and fold my arms, raising my brows. His eyes are a lighter hue this close, milk chocolate instead of dark. "Whose rules, Tonks?"

"It's Ted. Your rules, Dromeda. Pureblood rules."

"It's Andromeda. I follow my own rules, but you're right; I can't say being alone with you isn't against them." I've bristled at the way he says 'pureblood', like he's mocking me, like there's something wrong with it. This guy is so backwards. Has he moved closer?

"Why is that, Dromeda?"

"Andromeda!" I almost snarl, my arms dropping to my sides to curl into fists, annoyed beyond belief. Who does he think he is?

He grins briefly. "Nah, I prefer the short version. Tell me why you can't be alone with me?"

"I won't be alone with you, not can't. There's a difference. And it's because…" I trail off. He's definitely moved closer; he wasn't leaning against the mantelpiece before, I'm sure of it. Should I move back? The smell of spiced apples washes over me as he angles forward slightly and I'm disorientated.

"But you are alone with me. Bit of a slip-up, hmm?"

He's murmuring now and I gulp as I feel his breath fan my hair, my eyelids fluttering slightly. Merlin, he's far too close. I should step back. My gaze locks onto his and I must have been mistaken before, because his eyes are a dark, dense cocoa now, almost black-looking and trained intently on mine. I'm so busy studying his eyes that I don't notice him leaning slowly towards me until it's too late to react properly, so I tilt my chin up slightly, waiting…

We both leap backwards as the door swings open, light from the Great Hall spilling in. Flitwick is backing through the doorway, talking to someone I can't see.

"Yes, yes, Horace, I'm sure it is for educational purposes but really, my vintage shrivelfig brandy is very expensive and I have had it for a number of years… ah! My students are here, so sorry…"

Flitwick slams the door and silently locks it before turning to Ted and me, frozen against the opposite ends of the mantelpiece. He doesn't seem to notice anything amiss but claps his hands, beaming at us as he bustles into the centre of the room.

"Right, sorry for the delay, we'll just get straight into it then. Mr Tonks, if you could please conjure a bathtub? Oh, Miss Black, add a plug, there's a good girl. Good, now the uses of the aguamenti charm…"

I don't make eye contact with Ted for the entire lesson, pretending he's not there so I don't turn around and fling a Stinging hex at him. How dare he try and get all close and personal with me like that! I am absolutely certain that I had been on the verge of stepping away and slapping him when Flitwick came in. Absolutely, unequivocally certain. If Bella hears about Ted's presumptious behaviour she'll drag him to her precious Lord Voldemort and beg for him to be made into an 'example'.

I shiver at the thought.

Flitwick lets us go an hour later and, thanking him quickly, I slip out, dashing through the Great Hall towards the doors. A moment later I hear Ted enter the Hall behind me, footsteps hurried and heavy. Ignoring him, I rush into the Entrance Hall, barely keeping from jogging as I pray that he'll trip or Flitwick will call him back or…

No such luck. He's in the Entrance Hall now, catching up to me, telling me to wait. I whirl around, breathing hard, my wand still hanging from my hand. Ted doesn't seem to notice this; his worried brown eyes are fixed on my face. He steps towards me and I glare at him.

"Stay away from me, Ted."

He offers a nervous smile. "We were in a class together; I'm not exactly stalking you."

"Are you deaf as well as arrogant and stupid? I want to you go. Away. Now." I try to inject as much venom into my voice as possible. He frowns, steps forward. Will he never act as a muggle-born should? My grip on my wand and my resolve both tighten, as does the knot of tension in my chest.

"Look, Dromeda-"

The name does it. Moving faster than he can react, I shriek: "Stupefy!"

Ted crumples to the floor. I stand there for a moment, waiting for the elation to come, that I got him to shut up and showed him his place; but I'm not really surprised when I just feel conflicted and inadequate, as usual. Ducking towards a tapestry behind which I know there's a concealed passageway, I cast a muffling spell on it so he won't hear me; then, peeking out at his prone form, I whisper: "Ennervate!"

As Ted stirs and sits up groggily, I'm already sprinting down the passageway, ignoring the tear streaking down my cheek.

I refuse to meet Ted's eyes in Defence the next day, staying close to my large group of Slytherins. I leave quickly when the bell rings. During dinner I purposely sit on the side facing the Ravenclaw table so as to avoid meeting his gaze; I know I'm being stupid but I'm just so angry that he's purposefully stuffing up my neat, quiet world. Thankfully I don't run into him on my way back to the common room and by the time I sit down on the sofa and close my eyes, I'm feeling drained but much more relaxed. Maybe I'll borrow Cissy's stack of brainless teenage magazines and just have a lazy flick through those, then have an early night…

"Andromeda! All ready for patrol?"

I open my eyes, trying very hard not to look dismayed as I see Fletcher standing expectantly in front of me. Curse it. It's Wednesday. I've completely forgotten Prefect duty. No mentally mocking Chad Monaghan and his bevy of fan-girls tonight, then. I plaster what I hope is an authentic smile onto my face as I peer up at Fletcher.

"Surely that's not for another hour at least, Fletcher?"

He shrugs, flashing me a winning smile. "I was bored. Might as well start early."

I'm amazed at his self-importance. It's got to be another hour and a half before our patrol is due to start. He's as arrogant as Ted. The smile drops from my face and I stand up.

"Sorry, but I'd rather just start patrol at the usual time. I'll see you down here in an hour and a bit, Fletcher."

Without waiting for his reply, I turn and make my way up to my dorm, casting an Alarm charm which will wake me in an hour. Flopping onto my bed, I give a vague response to Perpetua Nott's pleasantries before drawing my curtains on her side and closing my eyes.

What seems like seconds later, a shrill little voice is sounding from somewhere nearby. I mumble a protest, groping next to me for my wand, which is telling me to 'get up right this instant!' in what sounds disturbingly like a cross between the family house-elf and my mother. I finally mutter the counter-spell into the tip of the wand, stretch, and then lay there blinking for a moment before I abruptly swing my legs over the side of the bed. Perpetua is still here, this time joined by Louisa; they're poring over a catalogue for a magically enhanced jewellery company which is promoting its new range of 'lucky in love' bracelets. They seem like the kind of thing I, as Prefect, should be banning and so I make a mental note to watch out for them in future. Straightening my robes, I stifle a yawn as I reluctantly make my way down the staircase to the common room.

As expected, Fletcher is sprawled in an armchair, looking utterly bored as he draws smoky, elaborate 'F's in the air with his wand. I feel a little bad as I cross the room; maybe I should have stayed and chatted to him. But I was so, so tired. Shrugging to myself, I draw to a stop in front of Fletcher, smiling brightly as he looks up and frowns at me.

"Ready now?" he says moodily and with a heavy dose of sarcasm. My smile falters. I suddenly feel immensely impatient with his tendency to sulk. A true gentleman wouldn't act like this. I think of Ted, immediately bat the thought away and my anger increases tenfold. Screw diplomacy.

"Yeah, I am. Are you coming or not?" I whirl around and storm over to the doorway, shoving it open and muttering an apology to the first-year I almost knock over on the other side. I can hear Fletcher hurrying after me and I ignore him as he catches up to me. A smaller part of my mind is telling me to calm down, that I never used to be this irrational and volatile, but I don't acknowledge it for now.

"What in Slytherin's name is wrong with you?" demands Fletcher.

"Nothing!" I snap, still not looking at him. Fletcher gives a disbelieving snort. I begin to lose steam and slow down, thinking that it isn't Fletcher's fault that he's an arrogant little prick… I've probably overreacted…

"Is it that Tonks mudblood? Has he been hassling you?" I almost flare up again but there seems to be genuine concern in his voice. I force myself to remain passive and shake my head, not meeting his eyes. He sniffs and I can almost feel him draw himself up.

"Well if he does, tell me, Andromeda. I'll take care of the basta- um, fool."

I'm almost touched, although there's a goodly portion of annoyance lingering. Meeting his eyes, I give a small, tight smile.

"Thanks, Fletcher, but he's been absolutely fine."

Lucky I'm a good liar. The subject is dropped and I pass a weary evening of trying to flirt with Fletcher enough to stay in his good graces, but not enough that he tries anything with me. Where is Fabian when I need him?