If I had thought our kiss by the lake would be a turning point in Leo and mine's relationship, I was sorely mistaken. I hardly saw him over the next few weeks of exams, and he did nothing more than plant a chaste kiss on my cheek at the station after the train ride home, promising to write and to see me at the World Cup. I decided not to let his aloofness bother me; I had more important things to do than fret over a boy.

Sirius was also coming with us to the Quidditch. Since we had been granted tickets through my Uncle Orion's contacts in the Ministry, it was decided that Bella, Cissy and I should spend the first few weeks of holidays at Grimmauld Place, then accompany our cousin and Uncle to the World Cup. Our parents would spend this time holidaying in North America, or at least that's what we were told.

The only person happy about this arrangement, besides mother and father, was Sirius. He was a bundle of excitement when he greeted us, so much so it was almost sad, because it showed how lonely and bored he was without us. His only company during term time was his younger brother Regulus, just over two years his junior. Although they were close in age, they shared none of the bond that I had with my sisters. Sirius was bold and daring, seeking out challenges and opportunities for adventure wherever he could, and constantly pushing the boundaries with his parents; Regulus, on the other hand, was timid, obedient, and rather unexcitable. Looking at them, I was struck at how similar to Bella and Narcissa they were. They were only missing a middle child, like me, to bridge the gap between them.

Those first two weeks of summer dragged interminably. We hardly saw Sirius' parents. His father spent most days away from the house, visiting various important Ministry Wizards and other pureblood families, or else holed up in his study, a room on the third floor of Grimmauld Place that we were forbidden from entering. Sirius' mother, my Aunt Walburga, was snappy and impatient. She clearly had little time for children, and complained constantly about the noise and mess we made. We all did our best to keep out of her way. Our minders were Kreacher, my aunt and uncle's house-elf, and Roly, our own elf, who had accompanied us to Grimmauld Place.

Nobody else was as excited about the upcoming World Cup Final as I was. My sisters had a mild curiosity about it, but were mostly looking forward to the grand celebrations that would be held afterwards. Sirius, I was surprised to discover, was not overly passionate about Quidditch either. I had expected him to be as mad about flying as most young pureblood boys were, but he seemed far more taken with other forms of transportation. In particular, motorbikes.

"Look at this one," he said, waving a glossy magazine cover under my nose as we sat in one of the comfier lounge rooms, bored and listless. "Isn't it great?"

I raised my head just enough to see a picture of a shiny black motorcycle with gleaming handle-bars and an exhaust that looked big enough to fit your entire arm inside. "Oh yeah," I lied, flopping back against the couch once more. "Great."

"It's a 1959 vee-twin Royal Enfield," said Sirius in a tone of great admiration, as though I should be impressed by this.

"Is it?"

"Uh-huh. When I grow up I'm gonna buy a bike exactly like this one."

Bella, who had been draped across the sofa on the opposite side of the room fanning herself and generally ignoring the conversation, snapped her head up at Sirius' words. I felt a jolt of foreboding at the expression on her face, but was not quick enough to prevent what happened next. In a flash my sister had risen from the couch and paced over to us, snatching the magazine out of Sirius' hand.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's mine."

"What is this rubbish?" demanded Bella. Her eyes scanned the magazine cover, no doubt taking in the motionless bikes and their frozen riders. "Motorcycle Monthly," she read the headline in a tone of disgust. "This is a Muggle magazine." The word 'Muggle' was spat out as though it denoted the lowest kind of life-form imaginable.

Sirius lifted his chin, and I knew at that moment that he wasn't going to back down to her. Even at such a young age, he was already too strong-willed to be bossed around. "So?" he said.

Bella looked at him, and although outwardly she appeared calm, I could see the spark of fury ignite in her eyes. She dropped the magazine onto the floor and knelt so that she was eye-level with Sirius, who stared back at her defiantly. "So, Sirius, what have your parents told you about Muggles?"

Sirius sucked his teeth and didn't answer. From his position on the floor, Regulus watched the exchange with an open mouth, the miniature broomstick he had been playing with all but forgotten at his feet.

My sister hesitated, before clearly deciding to try a different tact. "Sirius," she began in a would-be calm voice. "Purebloods like us ride broomsticks, not…" she cast a distasteful glance at the discarded magazines. "Motorbikes."

"I'd rather ride a motorbike than a broomstick," Sirius shot back. Apparently he was not going to be intimidated into agreeing with her. "They're way more comfortable. And they can go just as fast. And they look better!"

Bella's eyes flashed. She swiped the magazine back up and got to her feet. "Someone's been filling your head with rubbish," she said icily. "Who gave you this magazine?"

It was a question I had been wondering myself. I didn't think it likely that either of Sirius' parents would approve of their son reading such material.

Sirius opened his mouth, before closing it again. He was a smart boy, and even then I think he understood that this was not the kind of information he should be giving to his eldest cousin.

"Who gave you this magazine?" asked Bella again in a dangerous voice.

"No-one," said Sirius.

"Obviously somebody gave it to you," sneered Bella. "It didn't just pop up out of the ground. So who was it?"

"I found it," said Sirius quickly.

"I don't believe you," sneered Bella. "Tell me who gave it to you or I'll destroy it."

Sirius blanched. "You wouldn't," he said in a shocked voice.

"I will," said Bella. She lifted the magazine out of reach as Sirius made a sudden lunge for it, holding it between thumb and forefinger as though it was a diseased item she didn't want touching her. "If you don't tell me I will."

"You're not allowed to use magic," said Sirius. His normally calm face was flushed with rage, and his whole body was trembling. "You're not seventeen yet!"

"Doesn't matter," said Bella. "The Ministry will assume it was your parents. They'll back me up if anyone asks."

"Bella…" I began in an attempt to stop the situation from getting out of hand. But my sister acted as though I had not spoken.

"Who gave it to you?" she demanded, and with her free hand she pulled out her wand, pointing it at the magazine.

"You can't!" Sirius yelled at her.

"Bella – " I tried again.

"I can and I will," she shrieked. "I'll do it, Sirius!"

"No!"

"Incend – "

"It was Uncle Alphard!" Sirius screamed. He was panting and there were furious tears forming in his eyes. "Uncle Alphard gave it to me."

Bella's eyes widened in surprise. "Is that so?"

"Give me back my magazine," demanded Sirius in a choked voice.

I did not like the look on my sister's face at all. "Why should I?" she taunted him.

Sirius appeared to be struggling to speak, he was so angry. "You – you said you would! If I told you who gave it to me you said you'd – "

"No I didn't," said Bella lazily. "I just said I wouldn't destroy it."

"It's mine!"

"It's Muggle trash," sneered Bella. "You shouldn't be reading it. I'm doing you a favour."

"You said – "

"I changed my mind."

"Bella no!"

"Incendio!"

The magazine went up in flames. Bella dropped it onto the floor with a hysterical laugh. Sirius gave a cry of outrage and lunged towards it, but I grabbed his arm, worried that he would burn himself in an attempt to put the fire out. My heart was thundering in my chest, and I felt slightly sick. Sirius struggled for a moment, before bursting into tears, hot, angry sobs that sounded wrong coming from him. Bella span on her heel and stalked back over to the couch. By the time she had sat down once more the magazine was nothing more than a pile of ash.

Sirius was choking, swallowing huge gulps of air in an attempt to stop himself from crying. He scrubbed a hand across his face and glared witheringly at Bella.

"I hate you!"

Bella laughed. "Oh please," she drawled. "Don't be such a baby."

Sirius made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a snarl, before flying from the room. I heard his heavy footsteps thumping up the stairs, followed by the slam of his bedroom door.

There was a heavy silence. Regulus was still on the floor, his expression wide-eyed and tremulous, as if he could not believe what he had just witnessed. I noticed that his lower lip was trembling, and went to crouch beside him.

"Reggie," I said in an attempt at a comforting voice. It was difficult because I was shaken myself, and did not feel particularly calm. "Could you go and play with Cissy for a moment, please? She's in her room. I need to talk with Bella alone."

Regulus nodded, standing up and walking out as though in a trance. I waited until the door was shut behind him before turning to face my sister.

Bella had assumed an apparently nonchalant position on the sofa, but I could see how tense her jaw was and the fixed sort of way she stared at the ceiling. I had to walk around the small pile of ash that had been Sirius' magazine to reach her.

"That was a horrible thing you just did," I said quietly.

Bella blew a stray curl away from her face without looking at me. "Sheesh, what is with all the overreacting," she said in a bored voice. "You'd think I just killed his favourite pet or something."

"Don't joke about it Bella!" I snapped.

It was so rare for me to raise my voice, especially at her, that for a moment Bella looked quite stunned. She sat up and stared at me in shock. I almost didn't believe it myself. But the memory of Sirius' tears were so fresh that I could not bite my tongue.

"That was his magazine," I went on. "You had no right to destroy it."

But Bella was not about to sit through a lecture, not even from me. "No right?" she hissed, getting back on her feet and pacing towards me like an angry cat. "No right? That was a Muggle magazine!"

I threw up my hands in frustration. "So what?" I said in exasperation. "It's not going to contaminate him – "

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT WILL DO!" she screamed at me.

I faltered. Standing there in front of me, with her hair wild about her face, her cheeks bright red and her eyes glassy, I thought my sister looked a little bit unhinged.

"It's trash. Poison," she went on in a breathless voice. "Vile, despicable – "

"It's just a magazine," I said gently. I didn't want to admit that I was afraid of her, but she was wild, unpredictable, and had just shown herself willing to use magic outside of school. I knew she would never hurt me, but that didn't mean she wouldn't hurt someone else, or even herself. "Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"I'm overreacting? I'm overreacting?" Bella took a deep breath. With one hand she scraped her hair back away from her face, and I saw that her forehead was damp with sweat.

"I think you should apologise to Sirius," I said, hoping to push my advantage while she was flustered. Bella narrowed her eyes at me.

"Why should I?"

"Because he's family," I said. "Because he's nine years old and he's upset."

"Hmph," Bella folded her arms across her chest. "He deserved it. He's a spoilt brat and he'll come to a bad end if he doesn't start acting like a respectable pureblood soon enough." I felt disappointment creep across my face, and Bella must have seen it too, for she suddenly put a hand on my arm. "But if it's what you want me to do, then I'll do it."

"You shouldn't apologise because it's what I want," I said earnestly. "You should apologise because it's the right thing to do."

"Don't push it, Andy," she told me. Then she kissed me on the cheek and ambled out. I heard her walk up the stairs to Sirius' room, and I wondered what she would say to him.

The atmosphere remained tense for the rest of our time at Grimmauld Place. Although an apology had apparently been made and accepted, neither Sirius nor Bella spoke to one another outside of absolute necessity from that point on, and their relationship never really recovered after that.

Nobody told the adults about our fight. They had little interest in the affairs of children, and would no doubt have dismissed it all as silliness and ordered us to make up in the interests of family unity. I had wondered if Bella would dob in Uncle Alphard as the provider of Muggle magazines to Sirius. But it seemed not even she was bold enough yet to take on our Uncle, who despite being generally seen as a bit of an odd ball was well respected in the family and doted on by Aunt Walburga.

The night before the World Cup Final I took two mugs of hot chocolate Kreacher had made and climbed the stairs to Sirius' room. Unable to knock with my hands full, I opened the door with my elbow and let myself in; there was a gasp, and a quick shuffling, and I saw Sirius hide something quickly under the covers of his bed.

"Sorry," I said, indicating the hot chocolates. "Thought you might like one."

Sirius didn't say anything. He appeared frozen, eyes wide and guilty. I thought I knew what he had just hidden beneath the blanket.

Sighing, I shut the door with my foot and walked over to his bed, placing the mugs on his bedside table. I sat down close to him on the mattress and gave him a weak smile.

"Sirius…" I began gently.

There was a pained expression on his face. His eyes darted around the room, before coming to rest on me. "Please don't tell her," he implored me, and I had never seen him look so desperate. He was almost hyperventilating. "Please Andy."

"Calm down Sirius, it's alright," I said. "Of course I won't tell her."

He clearly didn't believe me. "Do you promise? You have to promise Andy, please, I'll die if she – "

"Sirius," I said firmly, catching his chin in my own and making sure I was looking him straight in the eye. "Listen to me. It's none of my business what you read. And it's none of Bella's business either. I promise I will never tell her about your magazines. Or anything else she might disapprove of, for that matter," I added with a quick glance around his room.

Sirius let out a breath, and the tension that made his body stiff as an ironing board lessened somewhat. I let go of his jaw and sat back. "So can I see it?" I asked with a smile.

For a moment he gnawed on his bottom lip, before shrugging and pushing the covers away. It was a different motorcycle magazine. On the cover was a shiny black Triumph with a side-car attached, in which a young boy rode, an expression of ecstatic joy on his features.

"Pretty cool," I said, although personally I could see nothing appealing about it. I much preferred brooms, and staring at an unmoving photograph was just strange.

Sirius grinned. "It's a 650cc engine, parallel-twin, with over six thousand revs per minute and fifty-five inch wheels," he recited like some kind of walking encyclopaedia.

I blinked. "Er… that's great," I said. "Listen, Sirius, I want you to know – you shouldn't be ashamed of liking motorcycles. Even if… even if some people don't agree with you, that doesn't make it wrong. You should always be yourself, no matter what anyone else says."

"I know," said Sirius. His tone was full of confidence, and I had to admire his spirit. Most other nine year old boys would not have bounced back so quickly from that fight with Bella. Perhaps growing up with Aunt Walburga had made him more impervious to bullying tactics. "Thanks, though."

"That's okay," I said, kissing the crown of his head. His black hair was silky smooth. "Now get some rest. We've got to get up early tomorrow to make it to the Quidditch in time."

"Alright. Goodnight, Andy."

The next day was a blur of excitement, in complete and utter contrast to the interminable two weeks that had preceded it. I was so excited that I even forgot about the tension between Bella and Sirius. I was going to see an international Quidditch game, the sport I loved played at its highest standard, live. I didn't think even an appearance by Voldemort himself could dampen my spirits that day.

Leo's prediction had come true, and the final was to be contested between Australia and Romania, the latter of which had narrowly defeated Spain and Alberto Mexès in the semi-final. We met up with the Avery family prior to the game, and I could see from Leo's face that he was bursting with excitement just as I was.

"Royston Idlewind is playing," he whispered in my ear before I had even had a chance to say hello. "The Medical Staff cleared him fit to fly less than an hour ago."

"So your money's on Australia then?"

He gave a non-committal shrug. "They should win. But Romania won't go down without a fight. I wouldn't be surprised if it was very, very close."

Our family, and several other pureblood families, including the Averys, the Lestranges and the Malfoys, had seats in the Top Box. There were also several foreign wizarding families there, including one rather boisterous couple from Australia that seemed to have permanent grins attached to their mouths.

"Great view from up 'ere, ain't it?" the man said to me after I had made the mistake of wandering too close. He was so bronze I thought he might have put a browning charm on his skin. "Crikey, but I ain't half pumped! An' what's your name then, love?" he asked, peering at me curiously.

I considered not answering, but thought it might be a little too rude. For all I knew these could be important purebloods from Australia that I shouldn't be offending. "My name is Andromeda Black," I said in a smooth voice my mother would have been proud of.

The man blinked at me. "Strewth, well I'm not gonna try and pronounce that one, am I?" He slapped his knee as though he had told a great joke, and I stared back at him coldly. "Well, here's hopin' for a cracking game. May the best fella win!"

I excused myself as quickly as possible and returned to my family, shaking my head at the man's strange antics and speech. I did not have long to dwell on it, however, for very soon the team mascot's were rushing out onto the pitch. Australia had boxing kangaroos and Romania dancing lynx, but I did not pay them much attention. I was too eager for the actual game to begin.

When it did, it was like nothing I had ever seen before. Both teams were evenly matched, their Chasers moving so quickly it was almost a blur, their Beaters operating with perfect symmetry and control, the Keepers saving almost everything… I could barely keep up, my head swivelling back and forth and my binoculars hanging forgotten around my neck.

Within five minutes Royston Idlewind had scored the first try for Australia, the culmination of a highly sophisticated Chaser formation and incredible skill from the individual flyer. The right-hand side of the massive stadium, a sea of green and gold, erupted in cheers, and garbled versions of the Waltzing Matilda began to blare from all corners, drowning out the commentary from above. The bronzed man in front of us leapt out of his seat, whooping and carrying on in a way I knew would have made mother's hair curl had she been there to witness it.

"I'm bored," yawned Narcissa as soon as the initial hubbub had died down.

I swivelled my head to give her a quick glare before returning my eyes to the play. In even that brief amount of time, the Quaffle had passed hands to Grigorescu, the Romanian Captain, and a moment later Romania too had posted a score. The left-hand side, decked in red, yellow and blue, exploded in celebration. How anyone could be bored during such a match was beyond me.

It quickly became apparent that neither team was going to pull ahead. Royston Idlewind was an amazing Chaser, but so was his Romanian counterpart, Ion Grigorescu, and every time Australia looked like establishing a lead their opponents seemed to lift an extra gear. I was utterly captivated by the proceedings, my jaw hanging open and my hair loose around my shoulders after it had fallen out of its bun and I had not bothered to redo it. I knew my mother would have recoiled in horror at my exuberant behaviour, and once or twice I caught my uncle Orion giving me a disapproving frown, but I did not really care. By my side Leo was just as excited, if not more, than I was, and nobody looked twice at him.

The scores were 200 – 170 Australia's way when the two Seekers went into a dive. Leo almost threw himself over the barrier in his excitement.

"They've seen the Snitch! They've seen the Snitch!"

My heart was in my mouth. I couldn't decide who I wanted to catch it more. The Romanian Seeker Bolliac was marginally ahead of his Australian counterpart, although there would have been only millimetres in it. Now they were neck and neck, their arms outstretched, fingertips straining as they plummeted like stones towards the ground.

"They're going to crash!" screamed Bella.

She was right. Neither Seeker pulled out of the dive, both too intent on their task, and there was a sickening crunch as they collided at full-speed with the ground. It seemed to echo around the stadium. Besides me, Narcissa covered her face with her hands.

"Are they dead?" she asked tremulously.

They were so still that they almost could have been. But after a moment, I saw Bolliac struggle to his knees. One of his arms hung at an odd angle, and his face was smeared with blood from what looked like a broken nose. He nudged the Australian Seeker with his foot, before rolling onto his back.

I couldn't see properly. Seizing my binoculars, I pressed them to my face and focused on the ground, where the Australian seeker, Cunningham, still lay motionless. I had expected his eyes to be closed in pain, but they were wide open, and although his nose too was broken and he appeared to be missing a few teeth his mouth was stretched in a huge, ecstatic grin. It was only then that I noticed that he had one arm cradled against his chest, and in his fist the tiny golden wings of the Snitch were struggling feebly.

"He caught it!" I announced. "Cunningham's caught the Snitch!"

"What?" Leo seized my binoculars and looked for himself. "No way," he said in a tone of awe. "I thought for sure they'd miss it. That crash was awful."

The commentary was catching up now, and the crowd was slowly picking up on what had happened. The murmur seemed to spread around the stadium, starting with the excited buzz amongst the yellow and gold Australian supporters, and making its way into a groan as it travelled over to the Romanian contingent. It had all happened so quickly most people were still in shock. The Australian man in front of us was on his feet yelling and whooping, while his wife attempted to calm him down. On the huge screen above the pitch, the replay was now being shown, showing the two Seekers with their hands almost interlocked, Bolliac's fingers scrabbling at the back of Cunningham's knuckles, Cunningham's fingers digging into the dirt and collecting the Snitch a fraction of a second before both their faces smashed into the ground.

"That was so close," I muttered, as the Australian man began to do a victory dance. "Not even a centimetre in it, really."

"That was amazing," whispered Leo.

"Can we go now?" asked Cissy.

The celebrations were incredible. After their initial disappointment, many of the Romanian supporters agreed that the game had been a thrilling and highly entertaining exhibition of talent, and a few of them even recovered quickly enough to join in the many parties that sprouted up all around the campsites after the match.

As respectable purebloods, my family clearly considered such jovial and boisterous displays of carrying-on as beneath them. Nonetheless we never missed an opportunity to showcase our wealth, and thus my uncle and other members of our extended family had gone to great lengths to organise a private ball for all of us. We had our own ballroom 'tent', bedecked with marble floor, glittering candelabras and mahogany tables loaded with hors d'oeuvres and crystal goblets brimming with various drinks. The whole charade was set far enough away from the main party areas as to clearly indicate its VIP, invitation-only clientele, but not so far that it couldn't be seen by the witches and wizards wandering back and forth throughout the camp. Clearly it was meant to inspire their envy, although I doubted it would have the intended effect. I would have much rather been out in the main throng of party-goers than stuck in a stuffy old ballroom with the same old families I had spent my entire childhood with. There was a whole world out there to explore, and I wished I had the freedom to do it.

Bella, Cissy and I had also been given our own private tent where, with the help of Roly, we were instructed to change from our day wear into the ball gowns Aunt Walburga had picked out for us.

"As if I would ever wear this," grumbled Bella, casting an ugly look at the frilly pink dress she had been provided with. Secretly, I agreed with her. Pink was not Bella's colour, and the idea of her wearing frills like a thirteen year old girl was highly amusing. Still, there was nothing much to be done about it now. I watched Bella surreptitiously use her wand to eliminate the worst of the frilliness, but she couldn't do any more than that without risking Aunt Walburga's notice.

My own dress was marginally better. It, at least, was not pink, but a deep shade of forest green, and it did not have frills, although it did have a strange pattern of sequins down one side that shimmered as I walked. The neckline was conservative, which I liked, although Bella grizzled about a wasted opportunity and, when we were about to leave, did a quick spell with her wand so that it dipped lower, revealing the tops of my breasts.

"Bella!" I squawked, flushing bright red as though she had completely unrobed me. But my sister only laughed.

"Don't be such a prude," she said, pushing me out of the door. "You're beautiful, Andy. Time to start showing you off."

The three of us must have made quite a sight, because a dozen heads turned to stare at us as we entered the main tent. I shrank somewhat under the excessive scrutiny, but my sisters both flourished. Bella tossed her hair over one shoulder and pranced off to go and find Rodolphus, while Narcissa waited demurely by my side until, barely moments later, Lucius Malfoy swooped over and asked her to dance. My little sister was a picture in a baby blue dress that, despite being entirely modest and suitable for a fourteen year old girl, did nothing to dim her natural beauty. Besides Lucius, who looked dapper himself in his elegant dress robes and with his platinum blonde hair tied back neatly at the nape, she looked almost angelic. Nonetheless I was sad to relinquish her; I didn't want to admit she was starting to grow up on me.

I stood in the entrance awkwardly for a while, looking around at all the guests. There were very few new faces. Here and there I spotted an obviously foreign looking wizard, usually deep in conversation with one or another of my father's friends, their expressions very sombre. I wished Sirius was there. At nine, he was still considered too young to attend balls such as these; but I thought he probably had more interesting things to say than half the older wizards in attendance. I spotted Phylissa and Helena looking over at me, and walked in the opposite direction to avoid having to say hello.

I had caught sight of Leo, standing near the drinks table with Sebastian Bletchley, a Slytherin in the year above us and the Quidditch Captain of our team at Hogwarts. They were talking animatedly, and I wanted to hear their opinions about the game. But halfway there I was waylaid by Mrs Flint, Helena's mother, who wanted to congratulate me on my choice of dress.

"You look absolutely fabulous, my dear," she said in the same bored, slightly sarcastic tone of her daughter. "Why, what a shame it is that your mother couldn't come tonight. She must be so proud of you. And doesn't Narcissa look a vision? She and Lucius do make such a sweet couple, why I was just saying to Eleanora that – "

By the time I managed to politely excuse myself, I had lost sight of Leo. Neither he nor Seb were at the drinks table, but Rabastan was, downing what looked suspiciously like a glass of Firewhiskey. Since I was bored and had nothing better to do, I wandered over to him.

"Do your parents know you're an alcoholic?" I asked.

He snorted, and raised the glass to his lips. "Do yours know you're a humungous bore?"

"Very original," I drawled. "Where's Leo?"

He smirked. "What, lost your boyfriend?" His gaze drifted over me, and I didn't like the way it lingered on my chest. "Why don't you ditch that loser and get yourself a real wizard?"

This was such a ridiculous thing to say that I actually laughed out loud. It was a mistake. Rabastan scowled and knocked back the rest of his glass, tossing it behind him for a house elf to scurry after.

"You know," he said with a sneer, advancing closer in an obvious attempt to intimidate me. He was taller than me now, though he didn't have the same bulky frame as his older brother. He was thin and lanky, but with a wiry strength from Quidditch training. "You act like you're so much better than us. Like you're royalty or something. But you're not. My family's just as rich as yours is. And you're nothing special, Andy. Your sister's the one with all the beauty. You should be flattered I even look at you."

I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted blood. My fingers were itching to hex the smug look straight off of Rabastan's face, but I couldn't make a scene, not in front of all my family's friends and acquaintances. I would never be forgiven for the scandal. Instead, I fixed my face into the coldest expression I could make it, channelling my mother, and said, "Well I'm not flattered, you creep. So feel free to stop at any time," and pushed past him into the crowd.

I still could not find Leo, and my head was beginning to ache. Deciding that he must have gone outside, I slipped out as surreptitiously as I could, desperate for some fresh air and a chance to clear my head.

The tent that was actually a mansion backed onto the edge of a dense grove of trees, which was criss-crossed with paths and strung with enchanted lights to make it easier for anyone passing through. Without caring where I was going I began to walk, glad to feel the cool night air against my face. Rabastan's comments had made me feel hot and flustered.

I stopped a little way into the trees, knowing I should not stray too far. The Quidditch celebrations would go all night, and there were tens of thousands of wizards wandering the campsite, many of them foreign. It would be silly to venture too far alone, and I would get in serious trouble if I was found to have gone off on my own.

I had barely stopped walking, however, when I heard voices and heavy footsteps coming down the path toward me. Not wanting to be discovered, I ducked quickly into the darkness of the trees, moving as quietly as I could to a large pine tree and sheltering behind its boughs. My heart thumped, and I hoped I had not been seen.

A moment later I could make out the voices. It sounded like Abraxas Malfoy.

"…Ministry wizards everywhere. We would be putting a target on our heads."

"It will make a statement." This was Rodolphus and Rabastan's father, Romulus Lestrange. I knew his deep, sneering drawl well. "It will show we are not afraid of them."

"Yes," agreed a third voice I did not recognise. "While they are distracted, we should strike."

"It is dangerous…" said Malfoy. "It could ruin everything to act too soon."

"He believes it is time."

They moved on, their voices fading away again into silence. I stayed where I was, suddenly very cold. I had no idea what the men were talking about, but I feared it could be nothing good. The darkness, which a moment ago had seemed a welcome relief from the noise and lights of the ball, now seemed rather sinister, and the shadows full of hostile noises.

I shivered, and was about to return to the path when the sound of even more voices held me to the spot. I wondered whether it was more adults, or perhaps Malfoy and co returning. But these voices were younger, and much more familiar. They were also clearly arguing.

"…just wait!"

It was Leo. I went very still, turning my head just enough that I could see through the gaps in the branches to the path I had left. Sure enough, Leo stood in the same spot the adults had just been. He grabbed the sleeve of a second person, forcing them to a halt.

"Leave it, Leo!" hissed the other person, and I blinked as I recognised the voice of Sebastian Bletchley. He sounded angry. I couldn't imagine what they were arguing about. Quidditch? "You've made your choice."

"I haven't," Leo was saying. His jaw was set and even in the darkness I could see the flash of his eyes. "But Seb, you know I can't just... It's – it's complicated."

"How long?" whispered Bletchley, in a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it. I edged closer for a better view, careful not to make a sound. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. "How long do you expect me to wait?"

"I – I – " Leo raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know!"

Then, the most absurd thing happened. Seb stepped toward Leo, and put his hands on either side of his face. For a split second they simply stared at each other, before Bletchley brought his mouth crashing down on my boyfriend's. He pushed him back against the tree and I heard Leo groan. He responded instantly to the boy's touch, clinging to his shirt and pressing their hips together, and I remember thinking vaguely that he had never kissed me in such a way before.

It was only for a moment, before Bletchley broke the contact. His breathing was ragged, as if he had just run a mile. "You can deny it all you want," he said in a hoarse whisper. "But I won't wait forever. Make your mind up Leo." And he turned and sped off down the path, vanishing into the dimness.

I couldn't move. I doubted I could even breathe. Only when my vision started to blur did I force my jaw to unlock itself and take a much needed lungful of air. I felt dizzy and confused and – surely that hadn't just happened? I reached up and pinched myself, so hard that tears sprang to my eyes. The scene didn't dissolve.

Leo was still standing there. He too was panting, and he had both his hands clenched in his hair, as though he was trying to yank it out. As I watched, he kicked out viciously at the tree, swearing under his breath.

Part of me wanted to confront him. But I had no idea what I would say. I wasn't sure I was even capable of speech. Leo and Bletchley? Leo and Bletchley? The memory of Leo's extra Quidditch trainings slammed into my brain like a bludger, and I doubled over, tucking my head into my arms and biting down on my lip to hold in the scream that felt like it was bubbling up my wind pipe. How could I have been so stupid?

At fifteen I was still fairly innocent about certain aspects of the world. But I knew enough to understand that not every relationship necessarily featured a boy and a girl. You didn't spend four years in a co-ed boarding school without hearing things, after all. Still, I had never even imagined that Leo… I thought of his parents and had to fight a sudden urge to laugh hysterically. Oh, they would love that. Being gay in the pureblood world was akin to being a blood-traitor. It might even be worse, depending on who you asked. His parents would die of shame, I thought viciously. I could not find much sympathy for Leo right at that moment. He had, after all, been using me for close to a year to cover his own back. And I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I had been completely oblivious, like some stupid lovesick child…

Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and I leapt off the log. Leo had gone, no doubt returned to the party. But I could not go back there. I could not face Leo's parents, my sisters, Rabastan… instead I sprinted in the opposite direction, heedless of where I was going so long as it was as far as I could get from all of them. My vision was blinded by tears, and my feet ached in the heels I had been forced to wear. Once or twice I stumbled into a tree, feeling my dress snag or my skin scrape against bark or twigs. But I plunged on, and on, until I had run nearly the entire length of the forest and come out the other side.

I skidded to a halt just short of the edge of the trees. There was a campfire up ahead, and the sound of voices drifted through the air towards me, mingled with occasional barks of laughter. I had found one of the many parties, then.

I was about to turn and go back when there was a rustle in the bushes behind me. Fear shot down my spine and I whirled around, pulling out my wand. Someone was coming through the trees, stumbling slightly, their blonde hair glinting from the light of the nearby fire.

I froze, and my heart began hammering anew as I registered who it was. Of all the luck, I had somehow managed to find myself at Ted Tonks' party. I raised my eyes to the stars and cursed whatever hand of fate had brought me there.

Ted took a while to see me. When he did, his eyes narrowed as though he thought he might be seeing things. His gaze looked a little unfocused, and I wondered if he was drunk.

"Andy?"

I scowled at him, wondering how on earth he thought he had the right to call me by that name.

"Tonks," I said coldly.

He blinked, and shook his head. "Blimey, it is you. I thought I was going crazy. But what are you doing here?" His gaze drifted over my wild hair, the tear in my dress and the scrapes on my arms, and he frowned. I could practically see his mind piecing things together and coming to a bad conclusion. "Are you alright?" he asked in a heavy voice.

"I'm fine."

Ted didn't look drunk anymore. Instead, his expression was deadly serious. He stepped forward, studying my face intently. "You're crying."

"I'm not," I lied, scrubbing a hand across my face.

Ted looked past my shoulder into the darkness of the forest, peering into the shadows as though he expected someone else to be lurking there. "Where have you come from?" he asked when no one appeared.

"Nowhere," I snapped. It was none of his business what I had been doing, and the last thing I wanted to do was have to explain myself to him. I turned to go, and was shocked when he grabbed my wrist to stop me escaping.

"Wait," he urged me in a concerned voice. "Andy has – has someone hurt you?"

I shook off his touch. "Why would anyone hurt me?"

"I don't know." Ted scratched his head. "But why would you be running through the forest in the middle of the night in a dress like that?" He gave me a quick once over, taking in my shimmering ball-gown and the high-heels I had thoroughly destroyed. "What happened?"

"Mind your own business," I snapped, angry tears pooling in my eyes again as I realised how pathetic I must look.

"Andy – "

"Don't call me that!" I yelled at him.

The sound of voices from the campfire faltered. There was a pause, before I heard a female voice call out "Ted? Is that you?" I knew it was Emily Howard.

"Why don't you just go back to your girlfriend," I spat at Ted, backing away from him. "And leave me alone."

In the dim light I could see that he looked completely bewildered. "What are you – "

There was an almighty bang, and the ground seemed to rock beneath our feet. "Get down!" shouted Ted, and half a second later I felt him collide with me, pushing us to the ground and falling heavily on top of me. I gasped.

The air around us had turned hot and dry, and there was a loud roaring noise coming from nearby, as though the flames from the campfire had suddenly exploded in size. But I knew that wasn't right. There were smaller bangs coming from a distance now, and the sound of people screaming.

"What's going on?" Ted rolled off of me and scrambled back to his feet. He had his wand out, but we appeared to be alone and the campfire nearby looked the same as it had before, except that all sounds of laughter and chatter had stopped, and instead there were shouts and yells of confusion, and dozens and dozens of pops as people Apparated all around us.

"Ted!" screamed the female voice again.

Ted grabbed my hand. "Come on, let's go," he said, but I shook him off.

"No. You go."

He looked at me incredulously. "You can't honestly expect me to leave you here!"

"It's not me they're after," I said. For I had just remembered the first conversation I had overheard in the forest, the one between Malfoy, Lestrange and the mysterious third wizard. It will show we are not afraid of them, Romulus Lestrange had said. He believes it is time. And I thought I knew, with a sudden, chilling clarity, what the explosion had been about.

"What are you talking about?" Ted's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I saw that his face was scrunched up in confusion. "Andy – "

"It's you," I said, desperate to make him understand. "Or – or people like you. Mudbloods. They're after Mudbloods. You have to hide. Get your friends and get as far away from here as you can – "

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me!" I shouted, giving him a shove to try and get him to move. He didn't budge.

"But – "

I could hear fighting now, the sounds of spells firing, and it was so close I felt my stomach clench in terror. If they saw Ted…"Go, please," I begged.

He shook his head. I decided that the only sensible course of action was to remove myself from the scene, since he seemed incapable of moving while I was still standing there. Spinning on my heel, I raced back into the forest, hearing him call after me but refusing to stop. I hoped he would take the hint and get out of there, but I couldn't be worried about that anymore. I needed to get back to the manor, to my sisters…

My legs were burning and my throat felt dry as sandpaper by the time I finally made it back to the ballroom tent. I had a stitch in my side and my dress was practically in tatters. Heedless of how I must have looked, I staggered out of the trees and bumped straight into my Uncle Alphard.

"Andromeda!" he took one look at me and swept me off to one side. I saw then that there were people running about everywhere, their faces illuminated by the lights in the air and the flashes of spells, red, green, white… "Where in Merlin's name have you been?"

I couldn't speak. My eyes drifted over the scene around me. Where once the fields had been lit by countless camp fires, now they shimmered with spell-haze, and people were running to and fro like ants disturbed by rain. Far above the chaos, a skull made of what appeared to be a thousand glittering emeralds hovered like a shadowy apparition. A serpent slithered in and out of its mouth. I stared at it, transfixed.

"Don't look at that – come over here – oh for Salazar's sake, ROLY!" My uncle bellowed, and our house elf appeared at once.

"Yes sir!"

"Take Andromeda back to Grimmauld Place," he ordered the elf. "'Dromeda, stay where Roly takes you. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I didn't protest as I felt Roly's thin arm wrap around my own. A short, uncomfortable compression later, and I found myself blinking stupidly in the bright light of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

There was a scurrying noise, before I was engulfed in a mane of black curls.

"Andy! Oh thank goodness, we thought – we didn't know where you'd gone – and nobody would tell us anything – what on earth's happened to you?" Bella drew back just enough to inspect me, her dark eyes travelling over my ragged appearance. She suddenly looked very dangerous. "Did someone hurt you?"

I thought of Ted asking the same question, and almost laughed. "N-no." My knees trembled, and Bella steered me quickly into a chair. I sat down at the table, opposite Narcissa. My little sister's face was very pale, her normally composed features troubled.

"But where on earth did you go? One minute you were with Rabastan, and then you'd disappeared! Nobody knew where you were. I was out of my mind with worry!"

"I'm sorry," I said in a hoarse voice. The kitchen was so silent, even with Bella's chatter. My ears were ringing from the explosion, and it seemed strange to be simply sitting at the table as though nothing had happened.

"It's alright," said Bella. She either did not notice my odd behaviour, or considered it all part of the excitement of the night. She did not look particularly traumatised. Rather, she was flushed, and her eyes shone with a sort of feverish intensity. Coming to sit beside me, she took both my hands in her own. "I wanted to stay, but Uncle Alphard made us come here. He wouldn't tell us what was going on. Nobody would. But there was an explosion. We heard it – didn't we Cissy?"

Narcissa nodded. "People were fighting," she said in a quiet voice. "People in masks."

I thought of the final scene I had witnessed, with wizards and witches running back and forth, some screaming, others laughing, spells flying everywhere… and above it all, the haunting, spectral figure of the skull…

"It was him," declared Bella. She stood up abruptly, as though she couldn't stand to sit still, and began to pace around the kitchen. "I know it was."

I didn't need to ask her who she meant. I knew. I had heard my father's friends talking about him, minutes before it happened. I didn't want to think those men, who had been a part of my life since as far back as I could remember, whose sons went to school with me… I didn't want to think that they could have been responsible for that chaos… but the evidence was staring me straight in the face.

"I want to go back," Bella muttered, fidgeting with her wand as though she was itching to start throwing curses. The thought terrified me. "They're fighting. They're getting rid of the mudbloods. I want to go back. I want to help."

I leaned over and was promptly sick. Bella screeched as I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the scrubbed floor, lurching out of the way before it could splatter on her.

"Andy!" she admonished. "What is wrong with you?"

I closed my eyes, willing my churning stomach to settle. The whole room swayed about me, colours coming in and out of definition as though somebody was wiggling a dial inside my head. My sisters' faces seemed blurred and unfocused, and Narcissa's voice as she spoke came as though from the other end of a long tunnel.

"I think she's going to faint!"

The next thing I knew was blackness.

.