CHAPTER 9
Apologies

Gryffindors held a grudge. It was common knowledge amongst the Slytherin House. If not Gryffindors, then Ravenclaws. Those who did not hold a grudge, however, were the Hufflepuffs. For sure. Right? At least Andromeda was trying very hard to convince herself of that, because everywhere she went, she felt the eyes of bitterness like poisoned blades cursing through to her very soul. In other words, she was under the impression that Ted Tonks was angry at her. Which made no sense! First of all, he should not even have the right to be angry at her; ants did not get angry at humans. Secondly, the only event which could have explained this was his stupidly bonkers attempt to talk to her at the Slytherin table a few days prior, and he could not be angry at her because of that; he had been the stupid one, she had actually saved him from possible physical harm! Well, more of it than he already had most certainly experienced as a muggle-born at Hogwarts… point being, Ted Tonks holding a grudge against her made no sense whatsoever and was completely and utterly unfair and unjustified. If it wasn't, she obviously would not be so worked up about it.

Yet here he was, Ted Tonks, glaring at her in the Great Hall, not smiling at her when she passed him by in the corridors, not apologising to her after accidentally bumping into her in class. Really, she would not care about him at all if he was not clearly going completely out of his way to make himself noticeable. Which at least proved effective in that it actually made her realise something: Ted Tonks was a person.

Obviously, she had always known he was a person, but she had never realised it before. She had never seen much more of him than his smiles and blushes before. She had never seen much of him at all actually, considering they had been living inside the same school for six years. Yet there he was, brooding, frowning, ignoring her, sometimes muttering… So different from the gentle boy who gave her a plaster in the owlery and showed her to the kitchens… It did not feel natural, as if the very essence of the cycle of life was crumbling before her eyes. Sort of.

And through all this, she could not help but ask herself… Had she done wrong? She did not know Ted Tonks very well but it seemed fair to assume he was not the type of person to show such bitterness for such a long period of time. That he did, and that his anger was directed at her, meant something that only bothered her further the more she thought about it. Again, she did not care about that muggle-born… she was just… irked. Because it felt wrong and she liked consistency. There.

Thus, in the name of consistency, she had to make things right.

'Say, Maggie…' she started. Maggie did not look up from the rat tail she was chopping with utter disgust. 'Imagine somebody… did something… and you… did something else… that the somebody might have found offensive… but you did it to help them… mostly… but they can't really know that… unless they're really smart, or just decently intelligent… which they clearly aren't –'

'Meda, the point please.'

'Right. If that somebody was possibly offended, would you go and apologise?'

Maggie put down her knife and gave her an exasperated look. 'Why wouldn't you?'

Andromeda made a sound between a sigh and a groan. 'Why would I? I wasn't in the wrong!'

Placing a hand on her hip, Maggie smirked slightly. When she did that, she reminded Andromeda of her brother Liantris. She did not like it.

'Look, Meda,' she said. 'It seems to me like there has been some kind of misunderstanding between you and "somebody". You just need to make it right. Go talk to that person.'

Andromeda bit her lip uneasily. She never used to do that but having spent six years sitting next to Joy in class had rubbed off on her. She did not like that habit; Bellatrix sometimes told her off for doing it. Bellatrix had a lot of weird quirks that —

'Meda, you're zoning out again…'

Brought back to reality, Andromeda threw her hair back and fell into the nearest chair, trying to look dignified.

'But here's the thing,' she said as if nothing had happened. 'What if I don't think I should even have to apologise or justify myself because I think "somebody" just doesn't deserve it?'

Maggie raised an eyebrow. 'Are we talking about Liantris?'

Andromeda raised both eyebrows. 'Not at all, why?'

Maggie seemed visibly relieved. 'I don't know, just to be sure.'

'Did he tell you something?' asked Andromeda suspiciously.

'No, I was just asking,' replied Maggie. 'Why, did something happen?'

He sat with me late at night, started talking some cryptic and very vague nonsense, then left nonchalantly, leaving me confused and possibly a little scared, she thought.

'No,' she said. 'I'm asking you.'

'Well – no,' insisted Maggie.

The two girls looked at each other for what felt like a very long time. As Andromeda observed her friend playing uneasily with her short brown curls, visibly chewing the inside of her cheek, she thought it was fairly obvious that Maggie was not saying all the truth. Then again, neither was she. With a sigh, she rose again.

'Whatever,' she said. 'do I apologise?'

Maggie followed her example and went back to work. 'Why would "somebody" not deserve the apology?' she asked.

Andromeda shrugged. 'This and that…'

Maggie threw her a sideways glance that she probably thought Andromeda would not notice. For a few seconds, she did not say anything.

'Maybe you don't have to apologise at all, Meda. Just go to that person and explain your intentions –'

'I shouldn't have to explain –'

'Then don't –'

'But he's angry at me –'

'Then why do you care?' Maggie raised her voice.

Andromeda jumped and slowly turned wide eyes towards her. Maggie had slammed her knife on the wooden table and was now staring at Andromeda with reproach and exasperation. A heavy silence fell between them and spread across the classroom. Andromeda looked up to see that the few other students had all paused what they were doing to throw them curious looks. Controlling her expression, she stepped closer to Maggie who sighed loudly before finally gazing back at her.

'Why do you care so much that he's angry if you think you shouldn't apologise?' she whispered, and though her voice was calm, her eyes were rather cold.

Cold did not match well with Maggie's green eyes, though. Andromeda had seen much colder… still, she hesitated and diverted her gaze.

'I don't care…' she replied.

'Then why ask me?'

Andromeda turned on her heel. 'Clearly it was a mistake,' she said tonelessly.

Maggie opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself at the last second. Whilst Andromeda looked away, she fidgeted with her robes, visibly discomposed, itching to express her thoughts as clearly as they were in her mind. Andromeda made it a point of ignoring her, pretending not to notice her in the corner of her eyes. When finally Maggie spoke again, Andromeda did not show any sign of change.

'Meda,' started Maggie softly. 'It's not a shame to feel bad about something. Apologizing is not a humiliation. It's not a sign of weakness. On the contrary, you just –'

'That's enough, Maggie,' snapped Andromeda, though her voice remained low. 'I'm not talking about this anymore…'

'You came to me, Meda —'

'And now I regret it.'

Both froze as Andromeda's eyes bore into her friend's. Her heart beating into her ears, Andromeda felt sick. She turned to look away, a knot in her throat, trying to remember the last time she had had a fight with Margaret Greengrass, and failing.

The rest of the hour passed painfully slowly for both witches. Even Professor Slughorn took notice of the thick air between them. When it finally came to an end, Margaret tentatively walked over to Andromeda, but just as she started pronouncing her name, the Slytherin threw her bag over one shoulder and, with one last expressionless look, vacated the room.

This was where trust got her. This was why she could trust no one but her sisters.

Of course, she had not gone to either of them for obvious reasons; she would not take the risk of bringing attention to her… link? With the muggleborn. She had not gone to Joy either because she was too close to her every day and might make guesses, ask questions, or simply care too much. It had seemed perfect, then, to seek Margaret's advice; a friend sufficiently distant not to tattle yet sufficiently reliable to offer good advice. Well. She had been wrong. It wouldn't be the first time since the year had begun.

oooOOOooo

A few hours later she was sitting by herself under a tree near the Black Lake, throwing rocks she conjured up at the tip of her wand, and every time the clear surface of the water broke and exploded into drops and dripples, Andromeda was reminded of the irony of her name and that lake that her sisters and her had so often claimed to be theirs, just like they had so often claimed that the castle was theirs, that the wizarding world was theirs, that everybody owed them for the simple reason that they existed.

Why was she angry?

Was it because of Maggie? Was it because of Tonks? Was it because of herself? Was it everybody else? Because she was lost and confused and felt like she had no one to talk to? Worse yet, she was not sure what she would talk about. She felt, again, like everyone around her was in on a secret from which she was excluded.

"You can trust me too, Andromeda Black..."

"Then why do you care…?"

Stupid Greengrasses. They were lucky to be rich, pure and powerful. Nowhere near as rich, pure and powerful as the Blacks but —

"It was rude…" suddenly echoed another voice in the back of her head. What was it? "But I assumed you had your reasons… I'm not going to tell anyone, I promise…" Why did she care…? "Are you all right?... You look very pale..." She did not care. She did not owe anything to anyone. Not her.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw the few students resting outside rise and run back to the castle. Classes were starting again. She would be late.

Urgh.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

She took her time to walk back to the castle. Once inside, she barely took notice that the corridors had already emptied. In any case, she did not care about being late to class. Somewhere far at the back of her mind, she wondered if maybe she should care, even worry about her lack of care. But that thought was too far back inside the clusters of her mind and Andromeda had lost all will to go dig it up.

oooOOOooo

She reached her Transfiguration classroom more than fifteen minutes late and lingered still in front of the door. Gathering her strength, she took a deep breath and knocked twice, sighing again when she heard the faint "Come in" of professor McGonagall behind the door. Carefully, she pushed it open and, putting on her best innocent face, peaked inside.

The class went silent and all eyes turned to her. Andromeda was used to it and, despite the increased rate of her heartbeats, remained in control of her expression even under the severe gaze of Professor McGonagall.

'You are extremely late, Miss Black,' noted the witch.

Andromeda grimaced apologetically. 'I know, Professor, I'm so sorry,' she said softly. 'I wasn't feeling well.'

McGonagall pursed her lips. 'Did you go to Madame Pomfrey?'

Andromeda made sure to look just a tinge desperate, the desperation of someone who is telling the truth but that no one would believe. 'I couldn't get out of bed, Professor...'

The Transfiguration teacher seemed to hesitate some more but Andromeda Black had for her an almost taintless reputation amongst Hogwarts' staff. And so, when McGonagall resignedly invited her to take a seat, Andromeda successfully contained the triumphant smile she felt tugging at the corner of her lips and moulded her face, instead, into one of guilty relief.

All seats being already taken, Andromeda was forced to sit by herself at the back of the class. As she walked between the aisles, she addressed a friendly nod to Joy — whose questions Andromeda knew she would have to deal with later — and quickly looked away when her eyes found Ted Tonks' not far behind. She had just gone by him when she thought maybe he had looked away too, eyebrows furrowed.

Once she'd fallen into her chair. McGonagall did not lose any more time to carry on despite her interruption. Andromeda calmly took her quill and parchment out of her bag. Tonks had, again, displayed animosity towards her and for the last week, every such display had managed to unnerve her greatly. This time, she found she did not have the energy to torment herself with such thoughts. Sure, he was angry at her. She had coldly and dryly rebutted him in front of her entire House, not even trying to listen to what he had to say. It made perfect sense to her, but obviously, not to him. After all, she had been nice to him in the past, but never when other people were around. This last incident must have finished convincing him that she was the worst hypocrite in the world. Maybe she was. But how else would she survive if not by pretending?

Halfway through class, McGonagall started insisting for everybody to cast the liquifying spell silently. Amongst the laughs and annoyed groans of students, Andromeda concentrated. Bellatrix had already taught her how to cast silent spells during the previous year and even the summer Holidays. The one time a Ministry officer had come to ask about the Underage Magic happening, Andromeda's father had only had to name a few of his friends and acquaintances in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the officer had left with his tail between his legs. As a result, when Professor McGonagall stopped by her desk, she was pleasantly surprised to see Andromeda had already mastered the silent casting of the spell.

'That's impressive, Miss Black,' she said. 'Would you rather go help the others or start ahead on next week's homework?'

'Homework,' answered Andromeda right away.

The shadow of a smile graced McGonagall's face, but she was gone before it could turn into anything too real.

The remaining time of class passed extremely slowly, "just like this entire day," thought Andromeda. Not only because the homework was, although interesting, too much work for her fed up mind, thus leaving her doodling on her parchment instead, but also because every time she looked up, she found at least one person sneaking sideway glances at her. Sometimes Joy, sometimes Curtis, and too often, Ted Tonks. She actually held his stare, once, just to see. It was almost comical the way he tried to sustain it, the way he so obviously tried to read her. As if she would make it that easy.

He, however, was another story. As she studied his hazel eyes, she realised something; behind the apparent resentment, there was confusion and there was hurt and maybe – but she might be extrapolating – maybe there was a firm determination to remain angry. She frowned. This was too easy. She switched her gaze to his friend Wispbelly instead. There was another form of bitterness in this one's look – understandably so – and something like suspicion. He was harder to read than most but doable. But Tonks? Tonks was an open book. Did he do it on purpose? Was he some sort of genius actor? She focused on him again and a knot formed in her throat. It was a strange feeling, not the knot she was used to. He had turned back to Wispbelly and looked so resigned and miserable it reminded Andromeda of a sad puppy. Silent casting must not have been for him.

And it was evident, just then, that this boy was not pretending. Maybe he never did. Maybe he did not know how to. Or maybe he did not ever want to.

Weird.

So weird in fact that by the end of class, she found herself hurriedly shoving her books into her bag and immediately telling her friends to go on without her, wordlessly pointing her chin towards McGonagall. But Andromeda had no intention whatsoever of talking to McGonagall. Instead, she was carefully eyeing Ted Tonks, checking that he would not leave before all the Slytherins had.

And he didn't, but instead, was soon surrounded by most of his fellow Hufflepuffs. Andromeda had noticed the badgers' tendency to function in very large groups and had more than once noted how annoying that was. She was still hoping that he would somehow branch out from the rest of them as they were nearing the door, but she saw no signs he would.

Gathering her strength, she stood up, threw her bag over one of her shoulders and followed the Hufflepuffs. Once in the corridor, she was relieved to see they had not yet turned around the corner. Running being a near taboo in her world (poor people ran because they were messy and unkempt, decent people walked because they were poised and collected), she hurried to reach them and once she was close enough, raised her voice ever so slightly:

'Tonks!' she called, and for some reason, this time, the name sounded odd in her mouth.

She hadn't spoken that loud, really, but all the kids turned around. She stopped in her tracks; she was making enough of an effort, going to talk to him, he should at least be the one to walk back towards her. He, however, seemed hesitant to do so. She waved at him to hurry but he had frozen completely. She was about to give up when Wispbelly finally pushed him in the back, forcing him towards Andromeda, while he himself disappeared around a corner.

Visibly uncomfortable, Tonks trotted towards her hesitantly. She waited for him to reach her and once he did, made sure to wait a little before speaking so that he would feel even more uneasy and she would be even more in control. It worked, naturally. Tonks was too easy to handle.

'You're angry because of last Thursday, aren't you?' she asked suddenly.

Tonks, who had carefully averted her eyes until now, looked up, surprised.

'Err — well I — well — yes, but… — How did you even — Why…?' he blurted.

Andromeda sighed because otherwise, she might have laughed. 'Whatever,' she cut him off. 'I wanted to apologise on behalf of my classmates,' because it was their fault, not hers. Her heart was beating like crazy because she was so obviously right. It felt great. Obviously.

'Oh… err… thanks?'

They exchanged a look. Well, thought Andromeda, he just made it weird…

She inhaled loudly, ready to leave, but he blocked her path.

'Actually,' he said, his voice unnaturally strained. 'I — err — I wasn't angry… at you… not really…'

'Ah,' replied Andromeda. For once, she was legitimately unsure of what he truly meant.

'I mean, I – Hum… I know that you tried to help me… Right?' he added.

She didn't reply. Even she was not sure why. It was so easy to say "No, why would Ibever want to help you?". Then again, she did enjoy getting the recognition she obviously deserved…

'So…' continued Ted, very red by now. 'I guess I should thank you…'

'Yes,' she chimed in right away. 'And your welcome.' Now to the point. 'But let me be clear on one thing, here,' she added, speaking fast and not looking him in the eyes. 'We're not… friendly, or anything. You shouldn't have come in the first place. I don't know why you thought you could. You –'

'Because I only wanted to apologise, and we've been in the same class since we were eleven.'

Andromeda tsked, annoyed. 'That's no relevant.'

'How is it not – ?'

'Just don't do it again, okay?' she nearly shouted.

He hesitated for a second. 'Trust me, I wasn't going to…' he whispered.

She looked up at his eyes and felt sorry at the hurt behind them. Before it could show on her face, she shook it off and coughed timidly.

'Well, there you go,' she said. 'I don't have anything more to say.'

She stepped away, going towards her Common Room, but Tonks stopped her once more.

'Wait!' he called. 'Why can't we be friends?' he asked timidly.

She could have slapped him.

'Because –' she started, ready to rant at him about the hundreds of thousands of perfectly valid reasons why they couldn't. But then she her eyes met his hazel ones and she felt caught like a fly in a spider's web. She paused. Huh. Where had all those reasons gone to?

Tonks smiled nearly triumphantly. 'I think –'

'Because I don't want to,' snapped Andromeda. Maybe a little too brusquely because Tonks actually wavered. 'And for a number of other reasons that you are not entitled to know about.'

She looked him up and down and he retreated, as if offended. By the look in his eyes, he was probably more disappointed than anything.

'You just apologised to me, though…' he whispered, staring at her. 'So it's not like you don't care about me at all.'

She was momentarily caught off guard. 'Well… I just thought –' she stopped herself before she could say too much. Talking too much was bad for her image; the less people knew what was going on inside her mind, the better. 'Whatever. I got to go.'

She hurried away before he could stop her once more and nearly sighed in relief when he didn't. But then –

'Bye!' he called.

She could almost hear the smile in his words. And the most horrible thing happened then as, before her powerless eyes, her mouth opened and she replied: 'Bye.'

Urgh! Stupid! But it was a habit and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing except not look back and hope he didn't hear her answer, she thought, a second too late for she had already turned back and already seen the small smile drawing dimples in his cheeks and that meant he had, indeed heard her.

"Shit," she thought as she continued towards her Common Room.

At least, she felt like the aura of Margaret Greengrass swimming inside her conscience like an angel of reason had finally gone back to its happy fresh grass green colour, and not the angry red one Andromeda had been feeling ever since their talk earlier during the day. She was almost smiling as she reached her dormitory, feeling lighter from having done the right thing.

The right thing being clearly establishing Tonks' boundaries, of course. Her sisters would be proud. They could never know, of course, but they would be proud and that, more than anything, made her feel right.