Burning Through the Bloodline

by boniface

It means something to be Black. At least, that's what Andromeda was always told. But by her seventh year at Hogwarts, with unrest in her family and in wizarding Britain and a boy she can't help caring for, she's learned that maybe being a Black doesn't mean what she always believed. Even if it does, does she still want to be one?

4. Better Options

The Owlery was usually empty around mid-morning, especially on days like this when it rained, and the large and glassless windows made it a wet and windy place. That was precisely why Andromeda had chosen now to don her cloak and take the long journey from the dungeons to the top of the West Tower. It seemed that she was not the only one hoping for privacy because, as she climbed the very last of the stone steps she saw, immediately recognizable by her shoulder-length blonde hair, Melinda McKinnon.

Of course, it was her, Andromeda thought, pausing on the stair. Perhaps the damn book had a curse on it, so that talk of Mr. McKinnon or Melinda herself manifested whenever it wasn't read behind the privacy of the thick dark green curtains of Andromeda's four-poster or squirreled away in her trunk. She could leave, like she had never been there.

But Melinda spun around, hair whipping in the wind around her startled face.

"Hello," Andromeda waved as politely as she could, and continued up the stairs.

"Hi," Melinda said dismissively, but visibly relaxed some, before turning back to her owl. The wind whistled, and the rain blew through the tower.

Andromeda found Aeolus perched on the same wall as the tawny school owl Melinda was attempting to use, forcing them into close proximity, alone in the large, chilly room. Still, they could just politely ignore each other, as they had been doing for the past six years. Melinda had never quite fit in with the other Slytherin girls before anything that happened with her family. Her dissenting opinions, and more so her eagerness to share them, had not made her many friends, though, despite that, she had been made prefect, and now Head Girl. At least, despite everything else you could say about Frank Longbottom, he was well-liked in his house.

Aeolus leaned his soft feathery head into Andromeda's warm hand as she reached out carefully to pet him. He was a good bird to be so happy to see her when she had run him ragged this past month, to Dorset and to London and back ten times over. Now to Paris in such weather. She pulled the letter and book-shaped parcel, protected by an Impervius Charm from her robe pocket, and cast a glance toward Melinda, who was busy with a handful of envelopes. Aeolus lifted a leg.

"This is going to Uncle Alphard's. I'm sure he'll give you a treat when you get there." She said quietly as she secured her mail. Melinda was silently doing the same to one of the school owls. Her envelope read Michael McKinnon, Azkaban. Andromeda looked away quickly, hurriedly took Aeolus onto her arm, and went to one of the windows. Raindrops spattered her face, and her hair, growing damp, blew around it. Aeolus spread his wings wide and took off. She did not wait to watch him grow smaller and disappear somewhere over the Forbidden Forest as she usually might, instead went hastily—so hastily she nearly slipped along the wet floor—to the stairs.

Melinda was Head Girl, but that had not kept people, including her own housemates, from taunting her with her father's crimes. If they found out she was still speaking to him, Andromeda could just imagine the glint that would put in Ian Crabbe's eye. She doubted any of them were particularly concerned with the morality of Mr McKinnon's actions. Still, they weren't above using it to torment his daughter, who had never hesitated to stand up for everything they hated. Andromeda felt terribly for her. She didn't know what it was to be an outcast in Slytherin House, not precisely, but, well, you didn't send owls during a rainstorm if you didn't have things to hide.

A letter from Uncle Alphard was what Andromeda had been waiting for the last three weeks. She had not been short on mail from her family. The very next day after Bella's engagement announcement, a letter from Mummy arrived. Despite whatever misgivings about the betrothal Bella had attributed to her, Andromeda could not find a hint of it among the discussion of guest lists and flowers and dress measurements. As Mummy was terrible at obfuscating her true feelings—even behind a mask of ink and parchment—Andromeda had to assume she had quickly come around. According to Mummy, Daddy still thought he'd been slighted. Still, a negligible disregard of etiquette was not enough reason to end a perfectly respectable arrangement. She was throwing herself into this, and Bella was right, once Mummy had decided on something, it rarely took Daddy long to give in. He could be disagreeable from time to time, but life was more comfortable when Mummy was happy.

Mummy's letter had ended with only a dashed-off note about 'poor troublesome Sirius' and the state into which he'd sent Auntie Wally. She asked Andromeda and Narcissa to watch over him and shepherd him away from any improper influences.

It was some time that week that Auntie Wally seemed to summon the courage to tell everyone about Sirius's fate—or, more likely, Uncle Orion scrounged enough of it to do it behind her back—because on Thursday there was a letter from Grandmother and Grandfather; Friday one arrived from Auntie Melania—who seldom wrote either sister, and by Monday another came from Uncle Orion's somewhat enigmatic sister, Lucretia Prewett, who Andromeda knew better as the Prewett twins' step-mother than as her own cousin. Each letter began pleasantly, inquiring about how the sisters were settling in, moved on to discussing the unexpected, but delightful news about Bella, before reaching their target, Sirius. What exactly had happened during the sorting? Was Sirius alright? Was he devastated? How was he adjusting? Had he befriended anyone in Gryffindor? Of what sort were they?

Neither Andromeda nor Narcissa was quite sure how to answer these questions. How much were they meant to say? How much would send Auntie Wally into a rage and start some sort of feud? They weren't sure what kind of state she was in at the moment. Their replies were amiable but short. Unfortunately, this only brought more owls and more questions, none of them the one Andromeda was hoping would come. She was already thinking of writing to him first herself, when on the last Friday of the month, a new owl swooped down over breakfast, carrying a small parcel and a letter bearing only Andromeda's name. She knew what it was at once and excused herself from the table, dashing off to her dormitory, before anyone could ask what she'd received.

In the safety of her room, Andromeda tore open the letter.

My Dearest Andromeda,

I know this letter is a bit later than expected. I must beg your forgiveness. While our correspondence may be my favourite writing exercise, it is sadly not the one paying my bills. I am in Paris at the moment, but I am au courant with the latest family drama. I know you are likely swimming in letters as am I. Both Sirius and your sister know how to cause a stir, don't they? I haven't been getting the Prophet lately. I did not hear about Bella's engagement until your father wrote to me. Is it really as unexpected as it seems? The Lestranges are a fine family. I'm sure that will please my brother, eventually, even if he's putting up a fight about it now. Still, I suppose half the fun of having daughters is getting upset over their choice of husband. As for Sirius, I hadn't expected Gryffindor, but he's always been a little Leonine, don't you think? To say Walburga's not taking it well would be an understatement. Both of my siblings are quite pleasant, aren't they? Your mother and Orion are indeed saints, but I imagine my own marriage would have been quite the same. My greatest gift, or perhaps my worst curse, to witchkind.

You will have seen that I have sent along the next book you requested from me, and you can return the last you borrowed whenever you are finished with it. I hope you have enjoyed it and I look forward to hearing your opinions. However, I thought that instead of sending you my copy of Wands Against Wizards, I might send you an advanced copy of my own novel. What do you think? Of course, it is fiction, but it is very unlike any of the stories I wrote for you and your sisters when you were small or even any of my other published works. It is much more of a piece with the books you are currently reading. I would like to know your thoughts on it before the public (and the rest of the family) gets their hands on it.

Yours,

Uncle Alphard

It was short, but it was what Andromeda had expected, very Uncle Alph, and didn't pry for something that she wasn't willing to give. She wrote her reply hurriedly before she had to leave for Potions, telling him her misgivings about Bella's plans and her annoyance with Sirius and her deal with Frank Longbottom (which was proving quite convenient even if she still hated it). She told him about her thoughts on the book he had given her, which she'd finished a week before, and said yes, of course, to a copy of his book. He wanted to share his own thoughts with her. She was filled with pride that Uncle Alph would trust her opinion.

The letter and the book she had to return lay tucked in her trunk for nearly a week until she felt the weather was just bad enough to venture to the Owlery.

Hadn't it just been her luck to find Melinda there? Andromeda's thoughts were on her even after she returned to the dungeons, shed her damp cloak, and dried her hair. They remained even as she settled in the common room to work on her History of Magic essay.

What would she do if it were her father?

Something like this would never happen to her father. Something like this would never happen to the Blacks, not because any of them had any unusually warm feelings toward squibs—they had no squibs in their family besides—but because no one would ever put a Black in Azkaban. Uncle Arcturus would never allow it.

Before the summer, Andromeda hadn't given much thought to squibs though she maybe should have. They were as rare among wizards as Muggle-borns were among muggles, and there were far fewer wizards than there were muggles. The major movement for squib rights had reached a head years ago — protesters and counterprotesters crowded the streets of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley for months, speeches filled the pages of the Daily Prophet, and the topic dominated conversations at family gatherings. The simmering conflict was the ever-present background of most of Andromeda's school years. She had known that the McKinnons had a squib in the family, though many Slytherins would never mention something like that, especially given the politics of the time. Melinda's uncle—she thought it might have been her uncle — seemed to be close with and well-loved by her family until the inevitable.

Your Brothers and Your Sisters, the book Uncle Alph had given her, painted a bleak picture for squibs. Some wizards abandoned their squib children when they were found to be without magic. To be left without family was a cruel fate in the muggle world, whether you were a squib or merely an unfortunate muggle orphan. Andromeda could not imagine, at the age of nine or ten, suddenly being without her family. She didn't know how she'd get on if now, thrust into the muggle world without her wand, without her parents, and she was nearly eighteen. Nearly as cruel were the parents who held their squib children tighter to them, keeping them from muggle world, from muggle schools and jobs, keeping them trapped in a world that perceived their lack of magic as an insurmountable limitation. Andromeda had seen this first hand with the son of the Herbology teacher, Professor Filch. He must have been a few years older than Andromeda, because he was already a sullen teen stalking corridors when she was eleven, making himself the bane of the first years, with his game of jumping out and scaring them, promising to tattle on them for something, anything, he thought he could. He was still doing the same thing nearly a decade later, though officially he had a job, assistant to the terrible old caretaker, Mr. Pringle. But now, seeing his situation for what it was, it was easy to feel bad for him. Andromeda would be resentful too if she had been forced to live alongside children destined to outgrow and outpace her, only for more to take their place every year. It was a frozen existence, haunting the halls, treated no better than that wailing prepubescent ghost in the girl's bathroom.

Abandonment or stagnation couldn't be the only options. They just weren't acceptable. Euphemera O'Brien, the author of the book, didn't think they were either. She had real ideas about laws to change, programs to implement, schools to create. They were ideas that set Andromeda's teeth on edge and made her stomach twist, in a way none of her philosophical arguments had. How would they ever get the Ministry to do those things? What would be the cost? It reminded her of the protests that had more than once turned into riots and terrorized Hogsmeade. More than one weekend had been canceled on account of them.

"Andromeda!" She was pulled from her thoughts, back to the table in the common room with her untouched essay in front of her, ink dripping from her quill onto the few words she had written. Not only did she not have anything done, she was going to have to start all over.

Moira had been the one to call her name, and was now hurrying over with Ramona trailing after. The look on Moira's face was nothing less than jubilant.

"What?" Andromeda asked, bemused.

"You'll never guess what happened!"

"Probably not. You could just tell me."

Moira was too excited to force her to guess, as she usually might in return for a less than enthusiastic tone.

"They just announced the first Hogsmeade weekend! October 30th! And Ian's asked me to go with him!" She squealed.

"Oh my! How exciting!" Andromeda forced a smile. Moira had fancied Ian Crabbe since at least fourth year. He felt the same way about her at least half that time. Though they'd probably been snogging in cupboards for years, neither of them had been officially unattaclhed long enough to do anything as serious as to go on a date. Crabbe had a string of girlfriends over the years but had been single since May. Moira had dated their housemate, Lionel Bletchley, on-and-off since fifth year, only to end it for good, rather abruptly, last June.

"I know, right? Merlin, I'm going to need to order new curlers and maybe even a whole new set of robes. You can both help me pick them." Moira mused. Ramona didn't look half as excited. She stood behind Moira, fidgeting idly with the purple ribbon tying off the end of her plait. "I have the catalogue in my room. I'll be right back!"

Moira hurried off.

"She's going to come down with a list of baby names too, I think," Andromeda said.

"It's always been Vincent for a boy and Evelyn for a girl." Ramona took the seat opposite. Andromeda smirked. If it were anyone but Ramona, she'd say the tone was almost spiteful, but there was something else to it she couldn't quite place.

"Vincent Crabbe sounds very nice."

"Better than Vincent Bletchley," Ramona smiled. "At least, that's what Mrs. Goyle would say."

"Why settle when there are better options around?" Andromeda said in her best impression of Moira's mother, though she probably sounded more like her own. If anyone asked, Lionel Bletchley would call himself a pureblood, but having the barest claim to that status and being a nice young man, did not entitle you to daughters from some of societies' best families. No, you needed something substantial like Bella's Rodolphus Lestrange had. Moira was lucky her own taste and her parent's expectations ran in the same direction.

Ramona hummed in agreement, playing with her ribbon again. "They put a sign-up sheet for meetings with Slughorn too. To talk about Post-graduation plans. How is it that I have plans for next year when I don't have any for the end of the month?"

"It was just announced today. Someone will ask you to go too. Maybe Lucius will so you could double with Moira and Ian." As she didn't have plans for next year or the next Hogsmeade trip, Andromeda sympathized, even if what she proposed sounded unappealing. Ramona had a higher tolerance for Malfoy and Crabbe, and, truthfully, even Moira.

She shook her head. "Even if I wanted to go with him, I wouldn't bet my broomstick on him asking me."

"Why not?"

"Better options," she smiled, and Andromeda frowned.

Before she could reply, Moira returned. The three of them spent the rest of the morning, as none of them had any classes until the afternoon, discussing what robes Moira should purchase, Andromeda's ruined essay long forgotten, until it came down to a mauve set with a ruffle along the hem and paisley ones with bell sleeves, which they debated over all of lunch. In the end, she decided to order them both. Moira said it was just to try them on, but Andromeda doubted either set would be going back. It was not nearly enough to drive squibs from her mind, and every time she spotted Melinda McKinnon, her stomach did a guilty, uncomfortable flip.

It was still pouring down two days later, plaguing Care of Magic Creatures and Herbology classes and the first year flying lessons nearly as much as Andromeda was plagued by her run-in in the Owlery. Her History of Magic essay was still undone, and she was headed to the library to attempt to rectify that. She had run into Gwen Fawley that morning. Andromeda was on her way to Divination, and Gwen seemed to be taking the long way round to Transfiguration. On their walk, Gwen invited her to the library to revise that afternoon. She was quite insistent about it, mentioning Ted was coming more than once, which made Andromeda just a little self-conscious.

Walking to class with Gwen had felt like fifth year again when they would make the long walk up the North Tower together. They met in Divination in third year when Professor Mackenberg had decided that Gwen and Faith Burbage were far too chatty for her liking and separated them. In their new seats, Faith and Yvonne Crespo hardly made a peep the rest of the year, but Mackenberg had underestimated Gwen's bottled sunshine disposition.

Gwen had ditched Divination after O.W.L.s, and as she had recently dropped Potions, the only other class they shared, they didn't see each other much.

The weather had pushed students who might usually have passed the afternoon out on the grounds into the castle. The library was crowded, with most of the tables near the entrance full, though Ted or Gwen didn't seem to be at any of them. She did see Lucius Malfoy at the head of a table pontificating to a group of what must have been Slytherin first years. She wanted to blend into a passing bunch of Ravenclaw third years, but it was too late. Lucius had met her eye before she got the chance. He excused himself from the first years and was on her like a cat on a mouse.

"Andromeda! How serendipitous! I'd meant to talk to you! Are you staying long? I was just helping some firsties with their Potions work—Slughorn asked it of me, and of course, I couldn't say no—my duty as a Slug Club member, but I've got Charms to work on. I'm sure we could find a corner off to ourselves somewhere..."

"Well, I promised Gwen I'd revise with her." Andromeda said quickly. "And she always studies with the Hufflepuffs and Frank... so unless you wanted to spend your evening with them..."

"You want to?" Lucius's smile just barely twitched, and he ran a hand through his platinum hair. "I heard that Frank and that Ravenclaw girl of his are fighting. You wouldn't happen to know what about?" He was trying to sound offhand about it, pretending like he doesn't know Sonia's name, though he must have.

"I hadn't even heard about it." It was the truth. She didn't care much either, though Potions would be unbearable tomorrow if he was right. "How much time do you think I spend with Frank's friends?"

"I'm far more concerned with how much time you're spending with him." He said, and Andromeda somehow refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Not enough to concern Sonia, much less you." That brought new life to Lucius's smile, and it made Andromeda wary. "I've really got to go. Gwen is waiting for me. Have fun with the firsties. I'll see you later."

She hurried away with a half-hearted wave.

Gwen, Ted, and Mary Lazarus were at a table in the back of the library, sandwiched between rows of biographies. Ted looked up as she came down the aisle and greeted her with a warm smile.

"There you are! I told you she was coming, Ted! We saved you a seat!" Gwen said, pulling the bag off the seat beside her, right across from Ted. There was a box of Bertie Bott's in front of him and he offered her one. She took a pink one that turned out to be candy floss.

They did get to work, or at least made a good show of trying. There were books and parchment strewn about the table, and Ted had a large pile in front of him, though only Mary was making much progress. Andromeda's essay wasn't any further along than it had been when she arrived. Gwen and Ted had started a game with Bertie Bott's beans to see who could eat the most without having a reaction to the disgusting ones. At least those were the stated rules, but they all knew the real aim was getting Mary to shush them by having the loudest, most exaggerated reactions. It was a favorite of Frank's. Though not officially playing, Andromeda had earned a few "shhh" points for laughing at them.

At one point, Ted had eaten a garishly blue bean that made him cough and sputter and Mary slammed her hand on her book, making more noise than he had, and glared at him.

"Dish soap," He rasped in apology and, as soon as Mary rolled her eyes at him and returned to her book, winked at Andromeda. It was silly, but she couldn't help but grin.

She was rarely this close to alone with Ted. Hufflepuffs hung tightly together, and Gwen and Ted especially had a wide circle of friends. Most of the people Andromeda knew outside of her own house, she had met through them. She would have expected Des (as he might as well have had a Sticking Charm on Mary for the amount of times Andromeda had seen them apart) and Frank, if not Sonia, if they were really fighting.

Andromeda didn't really think to ask about it, but it seemed Mary did. Andromeda was halfway through a new paragraph, and Gwen was seeing how high she could wordlessly levitate a handful of jelly beans at once when Mary leaned forward on her book and whispered across the table, "Oh, Gwen, did you hear what happened with Frank and Sonia?"

"They're just having a row," Gwen said dismissively, lowering her wand and letting the beans rattle on the table. Ted had looked up from his book as well.

Mary pursed her lips and pressed on. "That's what I thought, and it's not that it matters, but it's just that Des heard from Gordon that Simon was saying some very unkind things about Frank during Quidditch practice—"

"Speaking of Quidditch, what time is it?" Gwen asked. Mary blinked in surprise and looked at her watch.

"Quarter past five."

"Right, I should leave soon for practice." She shut the book that she had barely given a glance and started packing her bag.

"Quidditch? It's coming down in sheets down out there," Andromeda said.

"That doesn't stop Quidditch."

"You are the captain. You are one of the few people who can cancel practice," Ted said facetiously.

"Do you want Hufflepuff to lose, Ted?" Gwen wasn't as teasing as he had been. Quidditch was the only thing that got her half riled up.

"All I'm saying is that we don't play until the end of November. If I were you, I'd let Crabbe and Gideon Prewett get struck by lightning." Ted teased. Ian would let half the team get electrocuted if it meant beating Gryffindor, though Andromeda didn't think Gideon Prewett felt differently about Slytherin.

Gwen ignored him and looked to Mary. "Will you walk me back to the Common Room?"

Mary looked at her, quizzically. "I'm not done with this chapter."

"Come on, we'll have a good chat," Gwen's voice was anything but innocent as she looked between Andromeda and Ted. "And I'm sure the two of you will find something to talk about once we're gone."

Mary agreed to go with her, and Andromeda knew what the topic of their chat was going to be, but she preferred Sonia and Frank being the ones gossiped about. While Gwen and Mary packed up, Ted looked at Andromeda, pink-cheeked and apologetic. He looked like she felt.

"I'm sorry about leaving! l'll stop by at dinner, Dromeda! See you later!" Gwen said as she hastily slung her bag over her shoulder and tugged Mary after her down the aisle. They very nearly trampled another student who had sat on the floor against a shelf with a book. Gwen apologized, but the dour-looking boy, who had to be a first year as he was quite small and still unfamiliar looking, barely noticed what happened. As quickly, as that, they disappeared around the corner.

If Andromeda had felt like she was alone with Ted before, well, it was just the two of them and the worlds-away boy. The air seemed to take on a new heavy feeling. Ted was only across the table, but the distance between them seemed too small and far too great.

"What are you working on?" Ted asked with a grin, braving the distance between them.

"History of Magic essay. I've had it for a week, but I've only gotten this far."

"Something else on your mind?"

"Squibs," She admitted, surprising herself by how easy it felt to confide in him.

"Squibs?"

"Squibs— and Moira's wardrobe— but mostly squibs," Andromeda nodded. She looked down the aisle to the boy, who had practically pressed his nose into his book and lowered her voice. "I er— I saw Melinda McKinnon sending a letter to her father in Azkaban. I keep thinking about how I would feel if it were my dad. I feel horrible for her. She never had many friends in Slytherin, but now it's worse."

Andromeda wasn't a gossip, not usually, and she didn't want Ted to think she was one now, but somehow it felt safe to tell him her feelings.

"I'd like to stand up for her like how you did on the train, but..."

"That wasn't anything." Ted shook his head. "Mary and Des aren't as bad as Slyth—some can be. They were just stupid. I just don't think Melinda should be judged because of her parents. I don't think anyone should be. We should give everyone a chance to work life out for themselves."

"But your parents aren't anything to be ashamed of just because, you know..."

Ted looked surprised. Maybe he wasn't talking about himself and bringing them up in the first place, didn't that just prove that they might be? Her cheeks flushed. He didn't say anything, just looked at her, strangely like he was trying to decide whether she was lying. She didn't want to decide right then whether she was or not.

"What about you? What are you working on?"

It took Ted a moment.

"Potions. You haven't forgotten any homework. Don't fret. I'm helping tutor the first year Hufflepuffs, so I'm brushing up."

"I did hear Slughorn was asking people." She said, trying not to roll her eyes at the very thought of Lucius.

"I think I was fairly far down the list. He asked Merilda, but she's busy with Gobstones Club, so she told me about it, and Slughorn didn't say no."

"Who wants to be one of Slughorn's pets, anyway?"

"Who wants to be Lucius Malfoy, you mean?" Ted smirked, like he had read Andromeda's mind. "Not me, until I need a letter from him to apply to St. Mungo's Healer's program."

"You're going to be a healer?" Andromeda was intrigued. He would make a very good healer.

"That's the plan," Ted said. "What about you?"

"For next year? I haven't really thought about it." She didn't want to think about it. Beyond Bella's failed summer living in London, her sister's model seemed unappealing. Fall in with a crowd her father disapproved of and then fall into a marriage?

"Maybe you have the right of it... 'best laid plans,' as they say."

She had never heard anyone say that. A muggle saying then.

"They expect us to have plans for next year when I haven't even got plans for the trip to Hogsmeade."

"You haven't?"

"Not yet, no." Most of the time, she went with Moira and Ramona, or occasionally, Yvonne and Emily. Sometimes Cissy, and back in fifth year she had dated Ywain Proudfoot just long enough to spend a Valentine's Day weekend together at Madam Puddifoot's. "I'll probably go with my friends. I usually do."

"Me too," Ted nodded slowly. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"We are," She said.

"Do you want to go then?" She wanted to beg him not to ask this of her, like his eyes were begging her to say yes, and how she wanted to. It felt like she was landing a terrible blow, not just to Ted but herself too. Then he added, "As friends?"

"Of course. As friends."

A small smile slowly crept up on Ted's face. "We'll get a group for the Three Broomsticks. Gwen, Mary, Des, Frank, and Sonia, if they're speaking by then. Ramona and Moira, if you want. If you think they'd want to."

"I'll ask." She returned the smile.

She could have said no outright.

Though she hadn't given another thought to Melinda, her mind was even more preoccupied when she returned to her essay. She kept looking at Ted across the table, or she would catch him looking at her, with that same little smile on his face. It was maddening. She wanted to thank him or kiss him or apologize, so she'd let uncertainty carry her down to the dungeons.

He could have taken it badly, but he didn't. It was like he understood, and Andromeda loved him for that alone.

She had been ignoring this feeling for Ted for so long, telling herself that the tightness in her chest, the fluttering in her stomach around him, was nothing more than fondness. Fondness was safer than fancying him. She knew what her parents would say but she knew she could never stay just friends with Ted, even if he could. She wanted to run back up to the library and tell Ted all of this. She wanted to never speak to him again. Both prospects seemed grim.

Before she had even crossed the threshold to the common room, Lucius Malfoy was standing by the door; the last person she wanted to see, except Ted.

"Andromeda, there you are," Lucius grinned at the sight of her and turned to a boy beside him, the dour-looking first year Andromeda had seen sitting on the floor in the library. "You can run along to dinner, Severus. We'll speak more about it later. Thank you."

The boy hurried out without a word as Andromeda entered properly.

"How was your time in the library? Productive, I hope."

"Fairly." She lied.

"That's good." Lucius said. "May I ask you a question, Andromeda?"

"Didn't you just?" She said dully, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"I have been thinking about the Hogsmeade trip next month. I'm sure you know Moira and Ian are going together." He explained. "And I thought we could make it a double date?"

"You and I?"

How had she gotten so popular suddenly? Ted was one thing, but Lucius Malfoy was another entirely.

"Yes, of course," Lucius took a step closer to her so that he was looking down his nose at her, and she had to look up to meet his eyes.

"Well, you see, I already made plans..."

"Plans? With who?"

"It's not a date," She said. It wasn't a lie. "I'm going with friends. You could ask Ramona. She hasn't got a date yet."

"If I wanted to go with Ramona, I would have asked her. I like you, Andromeda, very much..." Lucius Malfoy could say that to her, so easily and even if she didn't return the feeling... It was so easy... He had everything Ted didn't. He was the sort that her father would like. Her mother wouldn't even blink if Andromeda invited him to dinner. "What do you say?"

"Okay."

She let Malfoy walk her to dinner, though she didn't sit with him, instead, going to join Narcissa and her friends, if only because they were as far away from the Slytherin seventh years as she could get without sitting by herself or joining another table. Sitting with her sisters' friends, though, gave her a reason not to talk much.

Cissy's presence, more than Lucius's, would assure her she'd made the right choice. She loved her sister, who liked Lucius, for whatever reason. Cissy would be ecstatic to find out Andromeda was going on a date with him... She didn't want to think what she'd say if she knew about Ted.

There was the problem of telling Ted, of course, but Andromeda didn't want to think about that right now. She just wanted to eat her dinner and sit with her sister. She would find some way to tell him. He would understand, surely.

Halfway through the meal, Gwen appeared at the Slytherin table, soaking wet and still in her muddy practice robes.

"Hello!" She sat down opposite Andromeda, Cissy, and some of her friends giving her a disgusted look that went unnoticed or unremarked upon. So much had happened since the library, she had forgotten that Gwen said she'd join her at dinner.

"How was practice?" Andromeda asked.

"Alright." Gwen gave a noncommittal shrug. "How was revising?" The way she said it, she wasn't merely talking about Andromeda's essay. Gwen had been the one who invited her to the library in the first place. There had been a plan and everything, then.

"Alright."

"Just alright?"

Andromeda nodded, guiltily, then looked down at her nearly empty plate. She wanted to ask Gwen if they could speak about it later, but Cissy was sitting right there, listening. Out with it. "I got some work done on my essay, and then I went back to the common room. I bumped into Lucius. He asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him."

Then came the shocked, "And did you say yes?" It wasn't Gwen who said it though, but Cissy was looking at her with something Andromeda couldn't quite parse. Gwen looked disappointed.

Andromeda nodded. They were all quiet for a moment.

Eventually, Cissy said, "Oh, that's wonderful."

"That's really great!" Gwen forced a smile. "You know, I should probably head over to my own table and eat."

Andromeda could just watch. She got up and walked over toward the Hufflepuffs, taking a seat between Mary and Faith Burbage. Ted was across from her. She leaned across the table to say something to him. He nodded, and for half a second, looked in Andromeda's direction.