Disclaimer: Yep, JK Rowling's the shiz and all that.

Author's Note: According to the Black family tree, the big to-do in this chapter isn't supposed to actually happen for another nine years...I took some artistic liberties. Andromeda and Ted are shown here as fifteen.

The shades were drawn so that nothing but a crack of light peeped in

The shades were drawn so that nothing but a crack of light peeped in. Clothes lay strewn about the room, books and parchment clumsily arranged. A jar of ink had fallen on its side creating a black stain on the carpet. Andromeda lay on her bed, hands clasped together, eyes staring into space. The events of the last two days had been such a blur that she could barely string her memories together. The robes of mourning she wore were foreign and strange, like they didn't want to belong on her body.

Quietly the door to her bedroom opened and Ted came in, bearing a tray with a cup of tea on it. Ted set the tray down quietly and started to tidy up the room. He didn't say anything. Why was everyone being so damn careful around her?

It hadn't occurred to her before that with all the rush and panic going on in the few days previous she'd barely seen him, but his arrival suddenly grounded her. Andromeda abruptly became aware that she'd been unfeeling and cold during the whole ordeal. This realization made her more afraid than anything else.

"I don't feel anything," she announced.

Ted looked up from what he was doing, obviously confused. Her suspicion was confirmed when he said, "Sorry?"

She propped herself up to a sitting position and shook her head. Even now Andromeda was more talking to herself. "I don't feel anything," she repeated. "Nothing. I'm not upset. I don't care. What kind of person doesn't care that their father's been murdered?"

Full of concern, Ted kneeled down so he was at her level. "Andy, I know this was a shock – "

She cut him off.

"No, you don't get it. I'm not numb or anything. I mean, nobody deserves to die, but I just don't care. How can I feel this indifferent? He was no saint, I grant you that…"

Ted stiffened a bit and all too suddenly she became very aware of the previous week. The horror and pain in what had happened had faded to the back of her mind amidst search parties and death warrant, but the memories rushed back with a vengeance. The necklace…Bella's awful smirk of triumph… Everyone had treated it like a show, some sort of sadistic spectacle. Anger bubbled inside her as the silence grew.

Finally she asked, "You're recovering alright?"

"I'm fine."

He stood and turned from her. Through his shirt she could see his seizing muscles as he fought to control his rage and could imagine the still-fresh scars that marred them. It was just not right that he had been put through something so awful because of a fleeting fancy of her sister's. The things Bella did for sport were becoming more and more unreasonable with every passing month. Concerned though she was for her sister, Andromeda was more worried about the toll it was taking on others.

"I talked to Bella," she said carefully, "She refuses to say what she did."

"Why should she?" he asked, the heat in his voice a mix of venom and hurt. "Even if she did, no one would care. What's done is done, they've probably forgotten all about it by now."

Andromeda stood up. "But you haven't. I know you're still hurting."

"That doesn't mean spit around here – you should know that too."

He turned as he said this and she suddenly became not only aware of how very tall he was, but of the strength and emotion he suppressed in what he said and what he did, how it shone from his eyes in waves of fury. But the rage somehow softened when he looked at her and before she knew what she was doing he was kissing her and in the tiniest moment between realizing what was happening and kissing him back, and Andromeda could think was, Finally.