Chapter Six – The Blur of Whiskey

"What's up?" Melanie asked, as she sat down next to Ted on the sofa. The common room was fairly empty, which was surprising because it was a Friday night. She glanced over at Tom who was sprawled in an easy chair, who shook his head. Ted was scowling, which was unusual because he could normally be relied on to smile even when it hailed. She nudged him with her elbow. "Seriously, what's up?"

"He's struggling with his motto," Tom drawled, when it became apparent Ted wasn't going to answer.

"You have a motto?" Melanie asked, taken aback. "Cool."

"Yeah, live and let live. And forgive and forget." Tom stretched. "Andromeda Black called him a mudblood again."

"And this surprised you why?" Melanie asked. "She's a Slytherin and her last name's Black. Don't you remember Bellatrix?"

"It's just-" Ted finally spoke, and then stopped, not finishing his sentence, falling into silence again. The awkwardness reigned for a few minutes, before he continued. "I did insult her boyfriend. I guess I deserved it."

"Black has a boyfriend?" Tom asked, deeming this information important enough to sit up properly. "Who?"

"Lestrange?" The word was a question. Ted, as a muggleborn, didn't know anything about the rabbit warren of pureblood families, but Tom came from a branch of one of those families that had been blasted from the records.

"Lestrange? Rabastan Lestrange?" Tom suddenly wasn't sleepy at all. "Andromeda Black is dating Rabastan Lestrange? No way. Lestrange doesn't date."
"No, he doesn't." Melanie frowned, pulling her feet up onto the sofa. "That's odd."

"Why is it odd?" Ted looked between the two, the scowl beginning to fade from his face.

"Lestrange doesn't do gentleness," Melanie began slowly, glancing across at Tom.

"He uses and abuses," Tom said bluntly, rolling his shirt sleeves up. "He chews girls up and spits them out. According to the stories, sometimes literally."

Ted shrugged. "Well I guess he's changed, because they seem very happy together." He paused, then shrugged again. "I provoked her; it's no wonder she lashed out." He stood, yawning, a smile on his face now that he had explained away Andromeda's behaviour to himself. "I'm not going to Hogsmeade tomorrow," he announced, ruffling Tom's brown shaggy hair. "You'll have to survive without me. Kettleburn's asked me to help him with the Hippogriffs." He said this with an air of finality and walked towards the stairs.

When the sound of his footsteps had disappeared, Tom turned to Melanie. "He's oblivious. Completely oblivious."

"To what?"

"To the fact that you wouldn't say no if he actually got around to asking you out." A grin appeared on Tom's face as Melanie blushed. "Am I going to have to tell him for you?"

"No!" She stopped. "Yes. Would you? Oh, I don't know."

Tom laughed, standing to go to bed. "I'll let him know."

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"Are you seeing him tomorrow?" Titus was lounging on a chair in the common room, his face half lit by the crackling fire. Now that it was early December, they were grateful for it, and spent almost all their free time commandeering the chairs that were clustered nearest to the warmth.

"Yes." The word rolled around her mouth as she stretched, before curling up in the chair again. She was tired; school was exhausting now and frankly she could not be bothered with the essays and the work. All she wanted to do was sit in The Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer, talking with Rabastan.

"Do you love him?" Titus' voice was quiet, so the passing people could not hear him.

She looked over at him. "What has love got to do with anything?" The question was cold, which was not surprising. As a pureblood girl, if she could not bewitch a good man by herself, her parents would arrange a suitable match for her, whether she liked him or not. She had grown up knowing that she should never fall in love, because there was a high chance she could never be with that person. Imagine if she loved a third born, or, god forbid, a half blood. The damage to her parents would be horrific. No, it was better to keep a tight rein on her emotions, than to risk the reputation of the House of Black. Then her face softened. "He calls me Andy," she murmured.

"What?" Titus spluttered. "But no-one's allowed to call you Andy. I tried once and you nearly took my head off."

She smiled serenely. "Bella calls me Andy as well," she reminded him.

"She's your sister, it doesn't count." He paused and then a wicked grin. "So do you call him Rab?"

She blushed. "No. I could never call him that."

Titus laughed as her eyes slowly closed. "Don't fall asleep here" he warned her. "You know Lena is just waiting to hurt you."

She shrugged, her eyes still shut. "Let her try," she murmured sleepily. "Rabastan would kill her."

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She had been laughing when he ordered the drinks, and it was not until they arrived that she realised he had ordered fire whiskey for her. She had never tried it before, but she drank it anyway, so that he did not think her young or inexperienced. Another glass later, and it had gone straight to her head. When he took her hand and led her out of the inn, she at least had the presence of mind to ask where they were going.

"To the forest," he murmured, as he pulled her closer so his arm was around her shoulders. "I've got something to ask you, and I want to do it in private."

Her first thought was 'if he proposes, I will have to drop out of her school'. Her second thought was 'He's unlikely to propose'.

They trudged up the path, eventually walking off it to wander into the trees. She shivered as the air turned cooler and pressed closer to him, trying to steal some of his body warmth. When they stopped, he walked her against her tree; beginning to kiss her with such intensity that she was swept along.

It could have been minutes; it could have been hours before he pulled back, his dark eyes glinting. "Do you love me, Andy?" he whispered, kissing her neck.

Her breathing was heavy and she leant against the tree trunk for support. "Yes," she murmured, brining his head up so he could kiss her again. "Yes." If she had not drunk the whiskey, she would never have answered in such a manner, but its fire was clouding her brain. He pulled away again.

"I've never met anyone like you," he murmured, staring at her hungrily. "I want to drown myself in you."

She would have blushed, but her face was already tinged with pink. "I feel the same." When he kissed her again, his ferocity would have scared her, if the fire whiskey had not dulled her slightly. It was only when his hand began to inch underneath her shirt that she realised exactly what he meant. She tried to pull away, the tree blocking her. "We can't…I mean, we shouldn't."

"But you love me," he murmured, kissing her again.

She struggled, sandwiched between him and the tree trunk. "No. Rabastan. Please. I don't want-"

"I have been actively pursuing you for three months," he growled, his mouth close to her ear. "This means I have had to wait three months for this, and frankly that's two months and thirty days too long." When he lent in to attack her mouth again, his eyes were all pupil, and that was when the panic flooded her, cutting through the fog the whiskey had caused. She fought, struggling to get free, but he was stronger. It was only when she whispered a hurried spell and the sleeve of his precious leather jacket began to smoulder and burn that he pulled away; swear words dripping out of his mouth like poison.
It was then that she ran. She had not run like this since she was child, but run she did. She ran out of the forest, his entreaties and threats following her like a curse. She ran through the village, knocking younger people out of the way. She ran back to Hogwarts, to her place by the lake, that shaded shore with the stone bench. It was then, and only then, that she allowed herself to cry.

She had not been there long, before she heard a familiar voice. "I saw you running. Are you okay?" She looked up towards the sound, but with tears blurring her vision, all she knew was that it was a friendly voice. She slowly shook her head, the tears building up yet again. "Come here." Someone wrapped their arms around her, as she turned to cry into their shoulder. They stayed like that for some time, before he (it had to be a he, no girls that she knew were talking to her) asked, "What happened?"

As she gave him a garbled explanation, she felt his arms tense around her and his fists clenched. "He's a bastard." There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. "He's a bastard, and if I ever see him I'll punch his lights out."

That was not a Titus phrase. That was very definitely a muggle phrase. She pulled away, pushing away her tears to see Ted looking like he wanted to kill someone. She bit her lip when she felt tears threatening again. "But he liked me," she whispered, hating herself for letting the words slip out, hating herself for crying on him. "Maybe I should have-"

"No." Ted was definite. "Not like that." He handed her some tissue. "Here, you might want to wipe this general area." He motioned to the whole of her face. "It's not your best look." A laugh tore out of her without her realising, and Ted smiled. "So is the truce back on?"

She nodded quietly. I'm sorry. She would never say the words, she had been taught never to apologise, but she hoped he knew that she meant it.