I do not own Harry Potter.

The end of the year came too quickly, it seemed, for Andromeda, Ted, and Emmaline. Andromeda did very well on her exams; she could tell without even getting her results. The Ravenclaws always did on average much better than the other houses.

On the train ride home, she and her companions played Gobstones and munched chocolate frogs. Then, just as she was getting off . . .

Ted slipped a parcel into her hands. "Read it over the summer!" he winked. Andromeda could do nothing more than stare at the brown paper package as he dashed off, through the barrier, to meet the parents who could not come onto the platform to meet him.

Andromeda, however, had plenty of time to wait. Bellatrix took her sweet time bidding Rodolphus and Lucius good-bye, beseeching they write her, in a rather flirtatious manner. Bellatrix was partially competition and partially in control of both of them; she was neither too feminine nor too tomboyish, but, whatever the mixture, it served her well. Andromeda's mother seemed pleased with it.

Her mother let Bella get on with her goodbyes while Andromeda watched Ted leave. Emmaline came over with her parents, and Mrs. Black regarded them rather coldly. Andromeda wanted to stomp on her foot and tell her to be polite- after years of being told to be polite to all of her mother's pureblood friends, she wanted her mother to do the same. After all, the Vances were pure.

Mrs. Black eventually figured out she was dealing with purebloods, and became much warmer, but by the time the realization was made, Bellatrix was beside her, arms crossed and foot tapping, impatient to go home.

It was Narcissa who first noticed the parcel. "What's that?"

"I have to open it first," Andromeda replied.

"Wait until we get home. No need to cause a fuss in the station," her mother suggested, taking Narcissa's hand (though Narcissa was reluctant) and leading her out through the crowds of milling Muggles.

Her mother, father, and two sisters surrounded her as she sat on the couch and tore open the parcel, feeling as if it were her birthday.

"Who's it from?" Narcissa asked, mid-opening.

"A boy in my year."

"A boy?" Bellatrix smirked.

Andromeda stopped ripping and met her eyes. "Yes. One of my friends."

Bellatrix leaned back. "There's no such thing as a boy friend," she insisted.

"Then you're a bit of a tramp, aren't you?" Andromeda snapped, a bit irritated and wanting to get on with her parcel.

Bellatrix opened her mouth and made a motion to reach for her wand, but Mr. Black stopped her. "No magic over holidays, remember?"

Mrs. Black sighed and fanned herself with the green and silver lace fan she kept nearby during the summer months. "Such a foul rule. For the Muggle-borns, of course. Stops the pureblooded children from practicing, all just because of a couple of students who would foul up or give away our world. It would be so much simpler if the Muggle-borns were the only students under the ban."

Mr. Black raised his eyebrows. "We'd have the girls fighting perpetually- with magic. You know how hard that is to clean up. I say it's a good idea."

Mrs. Black shrugged. "Merlin, it's hot in here," she fanned more vigorously.

"You know, Muggles have got a way to keep themselves cool with electricity," Andromeda said, picking at the string on the parcel with her teeth. Ted was a paranoid parcel-wrapper, that was certain. "They call it 'air-conditioning' and it's a lot of vents that blow in cool air around the house."

"Andromeda, don't bite at that string like that. It's not ladylike and not to mention disgusting. Do you require assistance?" She brought out her wand.

Andromeda held the string steady so her mother could charm it into pieces. When this was completed, she tore the last layer of paper off.

Mr. Black aimed his wand at the fireplace, where blue flames sprung up. They emitted cool air. "How's that for a good wizard equivalent to air condi-whatsit? We've got the Muggles beat, still."

"Where on earth did you learn what Muggles do to keep cool?" Bellatrix asked, sneering.

Yet the package was open. It was a book- Andromeda had assumed that earlier- but she recognized the title at once.

"Romeo and Juliet," she read, stroking the cover, which featured a painting of a man in medieval garb standing beneath a young woman watching him from a balcony. Andromeda noticed a leather bookmark and opened to the page.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. As Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title," she read. Then she smiled. "That's the line he was talking about!"

"What book is that?" Mrs. Black leaned over from her chair, abandoning the fan. "William Shakespeare, who's that?"

Bellatrix suddenly gasped. "He's a Muggle! We talked of him in History of Magic, we were studying Muggle interpretations of witches and wizards, and he wrote a play once with witches in it and got them all wrong-" Suddenly she stopped babbling. "Andromeda, what are you doing with a Muggle book?"

"I told you, I was given it by a-"

"By who? Do we know them?" Mrs. Black was sharp. "Is he . . . is he a pureblood?"

Mr. Black finally reacted. "Maybe it was a joke, dear."

"It was a boy named Ted Tonks," said Andromeda defensively.

"Tonks is a funny name," thought Narcissa aloud.

"He can't possibly be pureblood," snapped Mrs. Black.

Andromeda hugged the book to her chest. "What does it matter? It's just a book!"

"If he's giving you gifts, you can't know what he expects in return, and you can't depend on wizards not raised in our society to know proper etiquette, and we don't know what on earth this book is about-"

"It's a love story!" cried Andromeda. "That's it! A tragic love story!"

"You see?" Mr. Black stepped in. "It's innocent, I'm sure. I can read it first, if you want, and see what this is all about. I'm sure it's no corruptive work."

"It could be pro-Muggle-born propaganda."

"Dear, it was written by a Muggle. Judging by how he wrote of witches, I doubt he even knew of our world. He couldn't, therefore, be persuasive."

Andromeda was very glad her father had been a Ravenclaw. Her mother sat back, defeated. "Fine. She can read the book. But that's not what I'm most worried about. What of this boy?"

Andromeda went up to her room, feeling very satisfied. Narcissa followed her, gaping at her as if it were some great intrigue to own a Muggle-written book. Bellatrix followed to, but at a distance, pretending to be disgusted.

"Go live with Muggles if you like their books so much," she scoffed, brushing Andromeda rudely with her shoulder as she passed her on the landing.

Andromeda didn't pay attention to her and simply sat spread out on her bed, feeling just as she did when she was little.

She loved the story. She loved the romance, the idea of love at first sight, the devotion of the lovers, the tragic beauty in their deaths. Mostly, though, was the transcendent idea of what they stood for- from two families, two worlds (two conflicting worlds, at that), able to reconcile and love against the odds. Even for a Muggle writer, Shakespeare had captured the feelings so well. After all, both Muggles and wizards felt the feelings of love and tragedy.

Deep down inside Andromeda, there came the stirrings of a rebellion of thought. It was always assumed she would marry a pureblood and carry the Black blood through whatever fine family she married into; she knew it and she accepted it. Yet- it did not occur to her right away, but it occurred nonetheless- that it was possible for that not to happen, for something more romantic and beautiful to be her real ending, her own beautiful story- even if tragic.

TBC . . . Thanks to everybody that reviewed! I love you all!