I.
You're five years old when you think your dolls, Hera and Circe, should kiss. Andromeda watches, eyes rolling.
"Girls aren't supposed to kiss each other," she says.
"Why not?"
"Girls are supposed to kiss boys."
Andromeda is the smart one. Your mother has often remarked (in disgusted annoyance) that she has the makings of a Ravenclaw. So, usually, when she speaks, you believe her. Now, you think she might be wrong.
II
You're thirteen years old when you wonder what it would be like to kiss Andromeda. That Tonks boy has kissed her, you know, and you hate him for it.
You corner her, pretending to be more confident than you feel. Your lips are awkward and inexperienced against hers.
Andromeda pulls away, wiping her mouth as though you've left behind traces of something dirty on her lips. "You shouldn't do that, Cissy!"
"Why not?"
"I'm your sister."
You fail to see the problem.
III
You've finally stopped counting your birthday candles when Andromeda comes to you. She's older now, tired and broken from the losses she's suffered during the war.
"Kiss me," she mumbles.
For once, you simply oblige without questioning her reasons
