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Chapter Text

The first time Andromeda hears the phrase, it's just another of the many little lessons for her to learn about what to wear and how to act. It's thrown in there like a knut into a wishing well, a casual toss born more out of habit than from meaningful thought.

'You should wear black,' her mother advises her as they prepare for the dinner party they'll be attending that evening.

She's twelve, and her hair is twisted up in a knot that's accentuated with little shining crystals. Curly tendrils hang loose around her face, styled to appear as if they successfully staged an escape attempt.

'It's elegant but understated, and it conveys power. Bellatrix needs to be careful with the colour — she inherited your father's hair — but neither you nor Narcissa need to worry about that.'

The older witch lets her hands rest beside her head, framing her brown curls without touching them. 'Besides' — she peers down at her with the kind of casual scrutiny that all three girls are used to — 'black is slimming.'

Andromeda takes the comments in stride. Her mother's words are harsh, but they're a necessary part of preparing the girls for their futures as prestigious socialites. There is, in the circles they turn in like spinning tops aiming to please, a narrow range of acceptable aesthetics to choose between. The Blacks are renowned enough that they are offered leniencies that others can only dream of, but there are still things that even they just can't do.

Defying social expectations is one of them; subverting them is sometimes acceptable, but ignoring their existence never is.

Besides, wearing black makes her feel like a proud member of her house. The colour was previously forbidden to her except for the most formal of occasions because her parents wanted to cultivate a sense of youthful energy around her. The fact that she is finally allowed to wear them whenever she wants — for that was what her mother meant by her comments; that the exciting, adultlike world of wearing black is finally hers — fills her with a sense of pride.

She is finally a true lady of the House of Black.

As she steps back from the mirror later that night, having excused herself to go to the ladies' room, she admires her reflection. Throughout the dinner party, the feeling of the dress against her skin has served as a constant giddy reminder of all that it represents.

And, she thinks as she turns side-on to examine her profile, black really is slimming.

-x-

Andromeda hears the phrase again and again over the years as her friends discover it for themselves or as people announce in surprise how much thinner she looks when wearing black. People start to say it less as time wears on and they grow accustomed to it, but the words still ring in her head even after the voices have stopped.

Black quickly becomes a staple of her wardrobe. She likes the colour well enough, but it's how it looks on her that has her hooked; it's how she can walk through a crowd and feel beautiful, even when her sisters are walking beside her and inviting comparison by their very presence.

When it comes time for her first date with her betrothed, there's no question in her mind about what to wear. As she walks to the meeting point for the trip to Hogsmeade, the soft skirt of her favourite black sundress gently swishes around her legs in the breeze.

She and Lucius Malfoy have interacted before, but never seriously. They've both known what they are to each other from the start, but she has never been fond of him, nor him of her. He has always been more interested in getting to know the other girls in their year before the fidelity clause kicks in.

His dalliances irritate her, but she accepts them. It's the pureblood way, after all, for their boys to be intimate with half-bloods while their girls keep chaste, and, however much she might dislike his actions, she won't have any real influence over him until they're wed.

It reflects poorly on her family for her to marry someone who is so open about his affairs, but her main — and secret — grievance is personal. She was raised to expect an arranged marriage, but the Muggle books she has secretly been reading offer a tantalising dream of a relationship based on love and attraction rather than tolerance and, eventually, contentment. It's the fanciful wish of a fourteen-year-old dreamer, one that she cannot voice without shaming her family, but even her best attempts to remind herself of her duty and force herself to fantasise about Lucius inevitably fail.

Nevertheless, she dons her nicest sundress for their date. It makes her feel beautiful, and she can tell that he agrees, even if he doesn't seem to care.

-x-

The tiles are cold against her knees, the harsh chill biting through her dress and seeping into her skin. A putrid stench fills the small room. She considers casting a spell to cover the smell, but, as always, she decides against it.

It serves as a reminder of the fact that she needs to do this, and she hopes that it will follow her when she leaves so she'll remember not to eat so much next time. She always eats too much, and then she feels sick, and then she gets sick. The getting-sick is a decent temporary solution, but she needs to focus on the eating part if she wants to make any lasting change.

She needs to stop eating so much.

At least the room is muffled so that nobody can hear her. Her mother charms it so guests can relieve themselves without being overheard, and Andromeda has found that it serves her own purposes as well.

She opens her mouth again, and her fingers slide in as far as they can go. Vomit chases them back out.

-x-

It dies down for a while; everyone knows it, so nobody needs to say it. Still, Andromeda holds onto the habit of wearing black.

The next time she hears it, she's fifteen, and it's meant as a compliment, a quiet appreciation for a job well done and a puberty well spent. It isn't said directly to her, but she hears it nonetheless, and it makes her polite social smile that much easier to call upon for the rest of the day.

Petty annoyances are easy to dismiss when she can recall those sweet words, spoken from the mouths of people who didn't even know she was listening. They echo in her head like a much-loved line of lyrics, sending a rush of pride through her every time she remembers them.

'Black is slimming down.'

The casual observation sparks a number of compliments over the next few days, all of which she accepts with regal grace.

But, even as she feigns humility, she smugly thinks, Yes; yes, I am.

Her tireless work is paying off.

-x-

Lucius never goes to see any of the other girls until after he has seen Andromeda, which she can't help but feel grateful for. At least he isn't rubbing it in her face; at least he has some sense of discretion.

Since she's not allowed to have sex until their wedding night, she's able to pretend he strays because he can't have her rather than because he wants someone else. In her daydreams, he thinks of her every time and hates himself for his lack of self-control. It's far from a flattering thought, but it's something.

Despite her efforts, she can never quite convince herself of it. She was raised to think critically of the world around her, even when she isn't allowed to express those thoughts, and that kind of astuteness does not lend itself well to purposeful self-deception. But since there is nothing else she can do, she pretends to believe the lie.

'What do you think about the rumours?' she asks one afternoon.

He knows what she means by that alone. The rumours have been making their way through the Slytherin dormitories, and everyone has an opinion about them. They tell of a charismatic young wizard gathering traditionalists around him with the promise of strengthening the divide between the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

While Andromeda herself agrees with assimilating Muggle-borns into wizarding culture, she's also sympathetic to the other side. The idea of not being able to read Muggle books anymore is sobering, and she can't imagine how much harder it would be for people who grew up seeing all those wonderful things as commonplace. Her family's stance is much harsher than hers, but even they oppose the growing band of traditionalists, dismissing them as young upstarts out of touch with reality.

'Even if they aren't to be believed, it's a step in the right direction,' he replies. 'People need figureheads to rally around; perhaps he is ours.'

'I suppose it depends on whether you agree with the cause.'

Arguing with one's betrothed is another of those pesky little things that are frowned upon for pureblood witches, so the most she can do for now is needle him to find out where his loyalties lie. She hopes they'll reach a stage where she is free to speak her mind with him, but she rather doubts it.

As much as she tells herself that that's only to be expected, it's yet another mark against him; the idea of spending her life with someone whose opinion will always supersede hers irks her to no end. It seems a waste to have been brought up to think and strategise, only to end up playing second fiddle to someone who can't even keep his private affairs private.

'I suppose it does.' He eyes her speculatively, his gaze assessing. 'Do you?'

'I don't know what to believe,' she lies. He doesn't look convinced, so she simpers out, even though she hates doing it, 'I'm afraid I'm woefully uninformed on the topic. Maybe you could tell me your views about it instead.'

Being expected to defer to his opinions does have some advantages.

It works; smiling at the chance to assert his dominance, he starts his lecture. But every word reeks of prejudice and disdain. It disgusts Andromeda more than she expects it to, and she spends the rest of the conversation — or, more accurately, monologue — thinking about all the ways she has found to minimise food intake.

Despite his self-confidence, Lucius' obliviousness heightens her dislike for him even more.

-x-

She's wandering through the library, looking for a book on cross-cultural healing practices, when she comes across Edward Tonks. They have been in a number of classes together over the years, but they've never had any reason to speak to one another; he's a Muggle-born from Hufflepuff, so their paths have never truly crossed.

Normally, she would walk past him without a word of acknowledgement, but she's fed up with everything and everyone in her life at the moment. After the last Hogsmeade weekend with Lucius, Andromeda wrote home to rant about him, but her mother was adamant that she would grow to appreciate him over time.

As immature as it is, Andromeda can think of nothing better than waging a small rebellion so she can revel in twisting the knife without any lasting repercussions. 'Hello, Tonks.'

His head shoots up in surprise. 'Black. Do you need help?'

'No, I just wanted to say hello.' She scoffs self-deprecatingly. The sound doesn't come naturally to her — it's not something that wizarding society deems ladylike — but Muggle-borns tend to respond better to the more outgoing mannerisms associated with male purebloods. 'Well, no, not really. I did want to say hello, but I was actually looking for a book and was wondering if you had any recommendations. I was hoping to find something on Muggle culture, but I don't know which books are reliable and which are just nonsense.'

He scrutinises her carefully; his voice, when he speaks, is uncertain. 'Really?'

'Really,' she repeats, an eager nod punctuating the word. After a moment, she adds, in a hesitant tone designed to get him stuck in the inescapable quicksand of curiosity, 'Will you keep a secret for me?'

'I guess. As long as it's not going to hurt anyone.'

'I sometimes wish I could've taken Muggle Studies.' The bashful admission is more mouthed than spoken, the whispered words barely audible, even to her own ears.

His answering snort shocks her with its casual brusqueness. 'Don't. Some of my friends took it; it's rubbish. The professor tries, but the resources are decades old and she doesn't have enough firsthand experience to compensate for it.'

He hesitates, the dry amusement making way for wariness. 'I've never bothered scouring through the drivel that passes for books on Muggles, but Scott mentioned finding a good one a few weeks ago. If you want, I can ask him.'

She beams, and he seems taken aback. 'Then I'll meet you here tomorrow after class. Just don't tell him it's for me, alright? I'm sure you can imagine what my housemates would think if they found out.'

-x-

'This sounds great, Tonks. Thank you,' she says again once she has the book in her hands and the warning that parts of it get a little technical firmly in her mind. 'If I don't understand something, can I ask you about it?'

'Sure. I'll be studying for a while, so feel free to come over if you have any questions.' He pauses. 'If you're going to be hanging out here often, though, you might as well start calling me Ted.'

He tries to hide it, but she immediately picks up on the challenge in his voice; he doesn't expect her to approach him again in public, let alone to ask him genuine questions about Muggles. There's a good chance he doesn't even expect her to finish, or even to seriously start, the book.

His attempts at subtlety are kind of cute; she isn't used to being around people who are so unpractised at hiding their emotions.

Still, cute or not, she's determined to prove him wrong.

'I will,' she says sweetly before turning and making her way to a private nook at the back of the library.

Settling into her favourite armchair, she casts a series of localised misdirection charms so passers-by won't think to approach her and promptly loses herself in the book.

Chapter Text

'How are your classes going?' Andromeda asks, watching Lucius sprawl back on the couch opposite her.

He looks like the prototypical pureblood: arrogant, entitled, indolent. Sometimes, she can see the appeal; for what it's worth, he's handsome, and there's something about his proud demeanour that demands attention. Unfortunately for him, however, years of experiencing nothing but haughty purebloods have desensitised her to any charm he might have. His persona is carefully designed to exude an air of easy superiority, yet he's no better than she — or even the Muggle-borns he wants to wipe out.

But, as antithetical as it feels, she has to go along with it. She has been trying to convince her father to dissolve the betrothal, but he is standing firm. Until she can change his mind, she has to play the part of the doting fiancée. It means spending more mind-numbing hours in Lucius Malfoy's presence, but it will let her walk away with honour and dignity when the contract isfinally annulled.

'Well, of course,' he replies lazily. 'They are much easier than I expected. Of course, not everyone thinks so. It's rather amusing to watch the plebs struggle with even the simplest of concepts.'

'I can imagine,' she says, her tone as languid as his despite her throat feeling raw from her most recent trip to the bathroom. Technically, it's true; she can imagine how amusing it would be for this self-important twit.

She decides to push him a little to see if there's any give. She doesn't expect to find any, but at least she'll be able to tell her parents she tried. 'I find it more frustrating than amusing, personally. If the professors weren't so focused on rushing through the curriculum, it wouldn't be as much of a problem.'

'Hmm,' he says non-committedly before swiftly changing the subject, unknowingly proving her right.

-x-

'Tell me about them again.' Andromeda skims her fingers across the surface of the lake as she lays next to it, looking up at the cloudy sky.

Being outside with her feels odd. But the week has been freezing, so most of their classmates have shut themselves up inside the warmth of the castle. They decided to get rugged up in their warmest clothes so they could brave the outside world anyway.

Despite the bite in the air, it feels strangely cosy.

'The moevies,' she adds.

'Movies,' Ted replies, and she mouths the correct pronunciation to herself.

He still doesn't know what to think about her sudden interest in all things Muggle. While she has never said anything against Muggle-borns in his hearing, he isn't gullible enough to assume that means she doesn't say it elsewhere. In fact, when she first asked him to go for a walk to the lake with her, he assumed she was joking.

'They're a sort of like a mix between a wizarding photograph, a novel, and a play. Someone decides what they want it to be about, and a bunch of writers work out what the people in them are going to say, then a director works out how they want them to move and where they want the cameras to be and so on. The people in them stand in front of the camera and go through the plan, trying to make it look natural.

'When that's done, someone cuts together the different shots in a kind of sequential collage, then they sell it to people, who all buy the exact same movie and can watch it on their telly whenever they like.'

She nods in understanding. 'You explain it so much better than the book. I think I get what it's like now. But how could I go about watching one?'

Ted has no idea how to answer that. Watching a movie isn't the sort of thing a pureblood can just do; they need specialised equipment in a non-magical place, or they need to use Muggle money and transport, or they need a Muggle-born or half-blood guide. Andromeda has shown herself to be a quick learner, but he doubts that even she would be able to follow instructions about how to navigate another culture without any experience. 'Have you ever been in the Muggle world before?'

'Only briefly, and always just passing through.'

'Right. Giving you directions to the nearest cinema is out, then. Do you have any Muggle-born or half-blood friends?'

'Of course,' she says immediately. 'There's you.'

Unsure how to digest that, he exhales slowly and says, 'Fine. It's almost Christmas break. If you want, and if you can get away from your family for a day, we can go together. What kind of books do you like?'

'Anything that has a happy ending.' She hesitates as if she's considering saying something else, but then she shakes her head. 'Getting away won't be a problem. I'm about to turn seventeen, so I'll be able to Apparate on my own by then. We can meet at the Leaky Cauldron and go from there.'

-x-

It's easier to deal with Malfoy after that. Every time he drones on about yet another topic he doesn't bother asking for her opinion on, she turns her thoughts to her excitement over the upcoming expedition.

When she was little, her parents warned her about the diseases and maladies that plagued the Muggle population, and for the longest time, she believed them. But Ted is as healthy and hygienic as her pureblood friends, if not more so, and from all accounts, his parents are as well.

She's anxious to discover all the other things her parents might have been wrong about.

Black is slimming, and not just physically; being a Black narrows and constrains the ways a person is allowed to think about the world. Considering the amazing things she has found through books, through Ted, and, soon, through movies, it's a relief that she has at least started to tear off those blinkers.

'That sounds so fascinating,' she gushes when Malfoy pauses for breath. Her sisters would be able to tell she was faking excitement; the one thing she can't control is her eyes.

But he smiles at the affirmation, as if he's pleased at her interest. Not for the first time, she wonders how much of it is real. Does he crave her admiration or just admiration in general?

This time, however, she almost hopes he's being as fake with her as she is with him. As much as the thought of him only thinking about her when she was there used to annoy her, it would make the annulment easier.

-x-

'That was amazing,' Andromeda gushes, eyes alight with excitement, as they leave the cinema a few weeks later and wander down the crowded street. It's packed with Muggles, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care; Ted suspects she has become desensitised after spending two hours in a dark room with so many of them. 'When you described it, I assumed it would be on a fifteen-minute loop, but the scope of it… It was incredible. It was really, truly incredible.'

'Apparently Muggles can do some things right, then.'

'Well, of course they can; they created you.' It comes out in a rush, and she visibly recoils when she realises what she said. 'Wow, that's cheesy and more than a little bit gross. That's just… Wow. I'm on such a high from the movie that I'm not filtering myself. Those things should come with a warning; movies: incredible, but dangerous.'

He laughs because the only other option is to delve into that uncomfortable territory of unpacking what she said and how he feels, which wouldn't be safe for either of them. This is, plain and simple, her way of defying her family. He's happy to go along with it in the hope she will become a little less bigoted, but he hardly expects a momentous change. 'I'm glad you liked it.'

'Don't get me wrong,' she continues. 'I know there are more good things to Muggles than occasionally birthing Muggle-borns. They write brilliant novels, for one thing. And the technology… It's hard to wrap my head around some of the things I've read about. I still don't understand the whole movie-making process, even if I can appreciate the final product. And even without that, I know people don't deserve to die just because someone can't find something to like about them. I am not my family.' She hesitates. 'I did mean it, though, when I said — well, implied — that I like you.'

He wants to believe it, to give it more meaning than it has. Despite knowing that she's a Slytherin to the core, he has somehow fallen for the façade she shows in his presence.

But "I like you" can cover a broad range of feelings and reasons. She could mean it platonically. She could mean she likes how he makes her feel: rebellious, quirky, free. And while, yes, it's possible that she means she likes him romantically, she has to know as well as he does that it would never work out. Whatever she feels, she has obligations and promises to keep. 'You're a good friend.'

'While you are too, I didn't mean it in a purely friendly way.'

'What about your betrothed?'

'I'm still working on that one,' she admits.

Ted grimaces. It sounds like the kind of non-committal half-assurances he hears the sons and daughters of political players exchange like most people trade chocolate frog cards. He knows she means it — he's heard enough of her veiled insults about Malfoy, especially given how rarely she voices her frustrations, to know she genuinely despises the boy — but he isn't convinced she'll be successful.

To him, "still working on it" means, "it's still an issue".

'I'm doing my best not to judge the Muggle world by wizarding standards; please try to extend the same courtesy to pureblood customs. Children don't get a say in betrothals and often don't feel genuine affection for their spouse until years after they marry. If I were to… do things with other people and it were to come out, it would damage my honour and Lucius' ego, but it wouldn't be a true emotional betrayal.'

'Are you sure you want me? It sounds more like you want rebellion, like you're frustrated at both Malfoy and your father and want to get back at them by doing something they wouldn't approve of with someone they wouldn't approve of.'

She tilts her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she considers his question. 'Can't it be a bit of both?'

'Is it?' He's getting better at recognising non-answers. Knowing that playing him would mean the end of this little thing of theirs, she rarely does it intentionally, but she's ranted about it enough for him to notice when she slips back into the habit.

'Well, I like you for much more than the potential to defy them, but yes, I can't deny that part has some appeal as well.'

Spotting a park bench nearby, Ted directs them towards it and waits until they're both settled to ask the question he's been wondering ever since she first approached him that day in the library. 'What are you looking for?'

'I don't know. Do you need me to?'

He hesitates. He hates her world of lies and uncertainty and hates that she's pulling him into it, but he knows that she's being as honest with him as she knows how to be. As long as he remembers that it will eventually end, he supposes there isn't any harm. 'I guess not. But if this ever becomes more about revenge than genuine interest, you need to let me know. And I'll do the same.'

'Deal.'

'We should probably get something to eat, then, right? If this is now a date?' he asks, running a hand through his hair.

She nods. 'Food is good. It tends to be a bit of an important thing to have.'

'You can be a bit of a brat sometimes, you know?'

'I like to call it my charm. Subtle sarcasm is a useful skill to have in pureblood circles.'

'Then why are you so bloody obvious about it?'

She smirks at him, and he realises he's walked right into one of her traps. 'I'm usually not; I just dumb it down for you.'

'Definitely a brat,' he responds, but he wraps his hand around hers anyway.

It feels right, and that terrifies him.

Chapter Text

Sunlight shines down on the lake, sending tiny sparkles across the calm surface as if a child has spread silver glitter across it. It warms their upturned faces as they lay by the water's edge.

Books and parchment are strewn about them, held in place by charms so no unexpected gust of wind will be able to carry them away and serving as a ready-made excuse should any prying eyes wander by. Tucked away on the far side of the lake, their little patch of land should be safe, but there's always the chance that an overeager group of students will wander past as they too set about making use of the beautiful day.

She approached Professor Slughorn about wanting to tutor someone in order to construct a more approachable image, and he approached Professor Sprout about struggling with Transfiguration, so they now have the excuse of tutoring to hide behind. Alas, while that excuse also covers polite small talk, it won't protect them if they're ever caught discussing their hopes and fears or, worse yet, kissing.

For that reason, this area has quickly become their usual retreat, their safe haven from watchful eyes and judging smiles. It's the only place they can go where they have even a chance of sustained privacy.

Needing air, they pull apart, both breathing heavily as they lay side by side once again.

'We seriously need to come here more often,' Andromeda says when she is capable of speech.

'Yeah. How is Sirius going, by the way?'

'Really? We just snogged' — once, she would have shied away from that word — 'and you're asking after my cousin?'

'You're the one who said "seriously"…'

Andromeda shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. The most outspoken of her cousins used to use that pun incessantly but has, fortunately, stopped in recent years. Now, he conjures up a put-upon sigh and eye roll whenever anyone uses that joke with any degree of, well, seriousness. 'Sirius is fine. He's fitting into Gryffindor with ease; they all either adore him or adore the idea of a Black having been sorted there. My family isn't happy, but they're starting to resign themselves to it. You'd be surprised at how many letters my aunt sent me begging me to convince him to demand a resorting.'

'Is that even possible?'

'It's not a known option,' she replies meaningfully. 'Or an encouraged one, for that matter. It's happened once or twice over the years — no, I'm sure it's twice. The first time, the child's parents were horrified they were sorted into Slytherin. The Headmaster capitulated and the child felt pressured enough to request Ravenclaw the next go around. The other time, the child was sorted into Hufflepuff after a hatstall, but they were harassed to the point that their Head of House recommended the Sorting Hat reassess them.'

'So Sirius might have to pretend he's been bullied? He would never agree to that.'

Her smile broadens as her heart warms. Ted's attentiveness never ceases to amaze her. Unlike her friends, who pay attention partly out of friendship and partly out of self-interest, Ted's attention is genuine. She's only mentioned Sirius a few times, but he has taken notice.

'That's why Aunt Walburga also wrote to Dumbledore, Slughorn, and even McGonagall, but nothing's going to come of it since she has no grounds to lodge an appeal.'

'How is Slughorn as a Head of House? He seems… predatory at times.'

'He's really not. He can come across that way because he is, essentially, the embodiment of Slytherin traits and ideologies. When you actually spend time with him, you see how well-meaning he actually is. He genuinely cares about people; he just has the ambition to want his favours returned and the cunning to create a system for it to work.'

'I still prefer Sprout — and our common room. You can wax on about how beautiful the light looks when it hits the water, or how it's like an aquarium, but I'd take our burrow any day. You should see it someday. Did you finish reading that book I lent you — The Hobbit? It reminds me of a hobbit-hole.'

'That does sound lovely.' She can picture Ted and his housemates sneaking food in from the nearby kitchens on the weekends so they can have a second breakfast and even an elevenses. Surrounded by food, they would laugh and talk about the most mundane of things. Once, she would have thought it sounded dull. Now, she longs for it. 'Wait; did you just invite me to your room?'

Ted blushes; despite her assistance, he's still unable to control his tells, and she likes him all the more for it. 'It was to my common room, really, but if you want…'

She smiles. 'I don't know about you, but my breathing's back to normal. Shall we mess it up again?'

-x-

She wishes they could go out together in public. It wasn't much of a hassle at first; while she liked Ted well enough, she was happy to keep him as her dirty, rebellious little secret. Now, however, she wants to be able to treat him as her friends do their fiancés or, better yet, as his friends treat their girlfriends.

Hogsmeade trips consist of spending time with her friends and having lunch with Malfoy. Occasionally, she slips away, accidentally 'running into' Ted so she can spend a few minutes browsing a store with him before making her way back to her friends.

She can never risk anything more than that. No one would expect they were romantically involved, but the accusation of cavorting with Muggle-borns would still damn her in Malfoy's mind. As time has gone on, her determination to escape him has increased, as has her commitment to doing it the "right" way. That means avoiding anything that might tarnish her reputation.

As they reach for the same stick of caramel and their hands purposefully brush against each other, sending a thrill through her, she realises she's quickly becoming bitter towards her family. They love her and she loves them, but that comes with expectations that bear down upon her every move. Everything has to be measured and acted out and perfected.

Andromeda's background doesn't just limit the ways she's allowed to think; it curbs and controls her potential futures. All individuals start life off as if they are a jogger crossing an open field — some parts of the terrain may be wetter or muddier or peppered with more ditches than others, but one has so many options anyway. Then, their options narrow as they commit to a path and get to places where they have to backtrack or persist; they can still change their direction, but it takes effort and means accepting the risk of muddy shoes or twisted ankles.

She's starting to see the potential for a lasting relationship with Ted, but that's never going to happen as long as she's a Black and he's a Muggle-born. While there may be a way to flounder through the mud and potholes to reach him, the path is unclear. All she knows is that it would mean risking her family and her friends and her life as she knows it.

Star-crossed lovers, she thinks. Like my namesake myth, they raised me up so high, then they chained me to a rock and left me to defend myself without even a wand to protect myself.

If she follows the comparison to its natural end, perhaps Ted is her Perseus, fated to set her free.

She and Ted chuckle as if the contact were merely an awkward accident, and they choose different sticks of caramel. Then, they pay, Ted first and then Andromeda. He's still waiting outside when she leaves, fiddling with his shoelaces.

Together yet separate, they each unwrap their first stick of caramel and, sharing a secretive smile, slip it into their mouths before walking away in opposite directions. There's a burst of flavour in her mouth, and it's nice to know Ted is tasting the same thing at the same time as her.

Their future may look bleak, but every time they're together, they both choose to focus on what they have rather than on what they might never have. It isn't what either of them wants, but it's what both of them have, and they're both determined to savour the joy and freedom of it for as long as they can make it last.

Later that day, she considers returning to the bathroom, but she doesn't. She doesn't want to do anything that might separate her from that stick of caramel.

-x-

'Sirius,' she warns him, 'you need to be more careful. Your pranks can be funny, but they're incredibly polarising. Be who you want to be, but know that everyone is watching, and a lot of them don't want you to succeed. Reputation is key.'

'What if I don't want to act proper or have a reputation for being good at boring things like sitting still and making small talk?'

What indeed? she thinks when she's back in her dormitory that night, having engaged in some shallow political discussions with Sirius before heading off for her free period.

-x-

Over the next few months, she avoids meeting Malfoy whenever she can, claiming that she has too much work to do. Fortunately, he has no interest in offering to help her study or listening to her rant about her homework, so he accepts the excuse without debate. It doesn't even hurt her when she realises the number of girls whispering about him has increased since that conversation.

The day she realises he has gone from Lucius to Malfoy in her mind, she knows that even if there was a time when they could have made it work between them, that time is long gone. Being with Ted has changed her on such a fundamental level that there's no way she can go back, even if she wanted to.

-x-

It wouldn't be nearly as hard if he didn't make her feel so beautiful and special. If she could see it as a brief fling, everything would be easier; she would be able to treat it like ice cream, something that is precious but transient and so has to be savoured while it lasts.

Yet, as they talk and find ways to enjoy not just their similarities but their differences, she can't help but love the very thing that complicates them. Authenticity is hard to find in her world, so it's always difficult to discern whether a compliment is freely given or self-motivated.

With him, however, she knows it's all candid. He dislikes the pretences her folk put up, and he's a poor actor besides, so she never has to question whether his kindness is motivated by anything less than true feeling. In turn, she does her best not to lie to him or, when a falsehood spills from her lips out of well-honed habit, to admit when she does.

So when she visits him over the summer holidays under the guise of running errands and he tells her that his parents headed out unexpectedly, she knows she can trust him.

'Let me show you around,' Ted says before setting out on a tour of the house.

It doesn't look how she thought it would, but the feelings it invokes surpass her expectations. It's homely and welcoming, and every room feels inherently warm. It's a far cry from the luxurious manor where she and her family live with her grandfather, yet she isn't sure which she prefers. The manor has everything a bored mind could ever want — rooms, history, culture, green spaces, ponds, animals, sophisticated landscaping — yet the Tonks household has a sense of comfort and security.

They pass through the kitchen and living room, the bathroom and toilet and laundry, and a room dedicated to musical instruments and playing devices. Along the way, he points out unfamiliar technologies, and she tries to put names to them from discussions they've had over the past few months.

She's seen a cinema before, but she finally sees a television, finally feels the cold chill of the fridge and watches the circling of food in the microwave and hears the ringing of the telephone when a telemarketer calls to sell them a computer.

Eventually, they end up in Ted's bedroom. The walls are painted grey and dotted with different posters and photographs, some Muggle and some magical. Andromeda smiles affectionately at the sight of a Hufflepuff crest adorning the wall above his bed.

'I wanted to put a picture of us up too, but my friends might notice it when they visit. There's a loose floorboard that I hide them under.'

She waves it off; her photographs are similarly hidden, stowed away inside a model of a Nundu in her wardrobe. The soft toy was a present for her seventh birthday, designed to simultaneously act as a cuddle toy and a sort of role model to which to aspire. Her younger self had been terrified by the reminder that such a creature existed and had hidden it away. Now, however, it's proven useful. It opens up so the stuffing can be replaced and everyone knows she does not care for it enough to want to hold it, so it makes a good hiding spot.

'It's lovely,' she says honestly.

'Don't you mean "quaint"?'

'You should know by now that I always mean what I say with you.'

'Right. Sorry. I just — well, this is kind of nerve-wracking, you know? You're in my house. My bedroom, even. You're going to have opinions, and I can't imagine this being the sort of house you'd like. I know we're honest with one another, but I can't help but think you're lying because I can't help but think it doesn't make sense that you're not.'

'I would feel insecure too if the situation were reversed,' she admits. 'If you ever get to see the manor… It's the kind of decadence you hate. I don't want you judging me either.'

'So… no judgement, then?'

'No judgement; anything goes,' she whispers. It's like a whole world of forbidden possibilities is opening up to them in that moment.

'It's not like we've been sticking to the rules so far.'

'I love you.' The words come out in a rush, her vocal cords finally able to express what she's been feeling for a while but has never had the words to describe. 'I love you,' she says again, slower and more emphatically.

'I love you too,' he replies, almost as if the words broke a dam for him as well. 'You're amazing — '

Her lips crash into his, and for once they don't have to worry about curious passers-by. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as he pulls her closer, and it doesn't take long for her to become lost in the kiss. His hands slide dangerously low, and she takes a step towards the bed, tugging him along with her.

Ted pulls back, his chest rising and falling heavily against hers. 'We should stop.'

'Why?'

'Your rules,' he says.

'It's not like we've been sticking to the rules so far,' she reminds him, more than a little perturbed that they're breaking their unspoken no-talking-about-the-rules rule.

'Yes, but it's always been the kind of thing we can keep a secret until we die. You won't be able to hide this; that last book you lent me said it's often part of the marriage ceremony for older families like — well, like yours. He's going to know.'

'He has nothing to do with this.' Even thinking of him in this moment makes her feel sick. 'Firstly, I'm not marrying him, so his opinion is moot. Secondly, even if my parents do force me into marriage one day, I'd rather know my first time was with you.'

Being with Ted has shown her how pointless and silly their little pureblood games and rules are, to the point she can't be bothered with them anymore. She refuses to sacrifice sharing this with the boy she loves for someone who won't hold himself to the same standard.

And she wants him.

'I love you,' she says simply, 'and I want to do this with you. What do you want?'

'I love you,' he murmurs, and he kisses her again.

This time, when she takes a step back, he follows.

Chapter Text

'I can't marry him,' she tells her father when he returns from a business trip a few weeks later.

They've had this conversation before in a variety of permutations, with Andromeda hinting and wheedling and suggesting and asking but never outright stating or demanding. Her father usually takes her comments as signs of maidenly nerves or naïve romanticism.

This time, however, she's adamant.

It's a hit-or-miss strategy; her father listens to his daughters, but he prefers them to focus on solutions, not problems. It agitates him when someone outright refuses an option without presenting a viable alternative.

Andromeda is hoping the previous conversations will make it obvious this isn't a sudden issue that she expects him to solve for her, but rather an ongoing issue that she's been trying and failing to resolve.

'I thought we decided that you would keep an open mind.'

He decided that, but pointing that out will do more harm than good. 'I have. I've attended every rendezvous he's suggested and even arranged several myself. I've listened and been agreeable and tried to find reasons to like him. All I can see is a lazy, spoiled megalomaniac who believes all Muggles and Muggle-borns should be exterminated and that my role is to smile mindlessly and do whatever he says.'

She wants to mention his infidelity. Her father has dismissed her concerns in the past, but at this point, she's sure she can convince him of the need to take action. While technically permissible and, in her mind, better than him pursuing her, the extent and longevity of his transgressions has reached the point of impropriety. How could she be respected as his wife when anyone she meets might be someone who has illicitly cavorted with her husband?

However, appealing to that argument now would be risky. If her father is swayed by it and then learns that she has consummated her relationship with Ted, her credibility would be lost. It would be some kind of sick irony if the thing that has kept her sane for so long becomes the thing that traps her.

'Most pureblood wizards will expect your subservience,' he says. 'When I was searching for husbands for you and your sisters, I tried to find wizards who would give you more freedom. Each contract states that your groom must respect your personhood and autonomy, but that will be almost impossible to enforce.'

'I can't marry him,' she repeats. 'I won't.'

Her father blinks at her, looking stunned. Not even she can remember a time when she has defied him like this. 'You're that unhappy?'

'If I marry him, I will never be happy again.'

He examines her, no doubt trying to determine whether her words are borne from melodrama or true desperation. Finally, he says, 'I included a clause that allows the contract to be broken in extreme circumstances should my father, myself or you be seriously unhappy with the situation. From what you've said — '

'Can we use that clause here?' she asks eagerly. 'Hatred towards Muggles and Muggle-borns is widespread, but it's not the kind of thing one is allowed to discuss publically. Would his fanaticism be grounds for an annulment?'

'Yes.'

That word is the second most beautiful thing she's ever heard.

'I would prefer you continue to try to make it work; it would be beneficial to have one of you aligned with someone with those views in case they succeed. However, if you're certain, I will begin the proceedings to have the contract annulled. It will take time, but it should be completed by the end of the year.'

'Thank you,' she says fervently. The timeframe isn't to her liking, but it's better than nothing. She can put up with Lucius Malfoy's unwanted presence for five more months. Now she can see the end, she can hold on for a little while longer.

Andromeda doesn't make herself sick that night; lately, she's been vomiting without doing anything.

-x-

The purple glow stuns her. She knew it was a possibility, but it still feels surreal.

This isn't the sort of thing that happens to a Black. Blacks are upstanding witches and wizards who follow the law, at least as far as is detectable by others, and never get caught with their pants down. This has always been something that stupid girls get themselves into and smart girls avoid.

But Andromeda knows very well that she's a smart girl, and she's taken all the precautions she could have short of abstinence, yet it's happened to her anyway. Either her premise is wrong or her self-image is wrong.

Unable to reconcile herself with either idea, she casts the spell again. Then again. Then again for good measure.

Each time, the same purple glow radiates from her stomach.

She has no idea what to do with this development. Medically speaking, she should go to Madam Pomfrey for confirmation and a general health check, but then the news would get out and she would be ruined. Even if the nurse doesn't inform the Headmaster, which she's required to do in such situations, Hogwarts students excel at unearthing secrets. She can't risk someone coming across evidence of a pregnancy and trying to find out who the parents are.

Another option is to get permission to go home for the weekend and sneak out to visit her family's healer. He, however, would immediately inform her grandfather, a much better but still deeply flawed alternative.

The idea of not getting checked over at all is distasteful to her. It would be the most effective way of keeping her pregnancy quiet, and since she has always been drawn to the art of healing, she could theoretically do the checks on her own... but she doesn't want to risk her baby's health. One of the main things she's learned in her time studying healing is that self-diagnosis and self-treatment is rarely a good thing.

Besides, when she starts showing, everyone will know.

She casts the spell again.

Purple.

It's not the idea of having a child that she fears. She has always known that wifehood and motherhood will be part of her future. The thought of raising children with a man who doesn't respect her, not to mention making them with him, is frightening, but motherhood itself rather appeals to her.

It's the order of it that terrifies her.

Scandals happen, but they're always covered up with quick marriages and large, silence-buying dowries. If the child were Malfoy's, they would have wed almost immediately and then used glamours to hide the pregnancy for a few weeks before claiming she conceived shortly after their wedding night. Depending on how convincingly they covered it up, either everything would go smoothly or they would be sneered at until someone wanted financial or political support from one of their families.

If the father were another pureblood, the contract would have been annulled, a price paid, and a new contract drawn up post-haste. There would have been no semblance of propriety, and her honour would have been besmirched, but they would have made do.

The fact Ted's a Muggle-born, and so somebody her grandfather would never approve of, complicates matters. If Malfoy finds out, he could offer to marry her anyway for the sake of an enlarged dowry before later disowning her child. More likely, he would demand that he wed one of her sisters instead, leaving her to her public shame of being cast off in such a manner.

She doesn't want to marry Malfoy, or any other pureblood — she can't imagine being intimate with anyone but Ted, or having to lie about their relationship — but the lack of options scares her. She's used to options; she's used to knowing them and manipulating them to get what she wants. Yet none of her options good. The reality of her powerlessness confronts her wherever she looks, weighing down on her like shackles.

In her family's eyes, this is the worst thing she could have done as a daughter.

She will have to tell Ted regardless of what she decides. It isn't a conversation she wants to have, but have it she must. Not only does he deserve to know, but failing to appraise him of the situation may come back to hurt them both if word ever gets out.

He may even be able to find the alternative she's so desperately seeking. Before she met him, she would have laughed at the idea, but not anymore. She has come to value his opinion and views. Hopefully, this will be one of those times he thinks of something her ignorance is blinding her to.

-x-

They're in their usual spot near the lake. It's the only place they have privacy, after all, and it seems fitting. They've cast extra deterrence charms to give themselves additional protection against passers-by.

Not that there's much to see or overhear at the moment. Ted has been silent since Andromeda first told him the news; if he's trying to hide his shock and panic, he's failing miserably.

For the first time, she truly realises how vulnerable his inability to hide things from her makes him. It's one thing when they're just talking; it's quite another when there's a genuine secret at hand.

'How far along are you?' he finally asks.

'Three weeks. I'm due at the beginning of September.'

'What's usually done in situations like this?'

'Usually, there aren't situations like this,' she snaps. But they're supposed to be in this together, so she takes a deep breath and tells him the possibilities she has spent the last few days obsessing over.

'What do you think Malfoy would do?' he asks when she's laid it all out for him.

'He would probably demand to marry one of my sisters instead, but it depends whether his focus is on getting revenge or moving forward.' She buries her face in her hands, her stomach churning at the thought of one of her sisters being forced to be his wife. 'I've screwed everything up, Ted.'

The vulgarity sounds odd on her tongue, but what is that impropriety compared to their indiscretions?

'There are ways to get rid of it, if you want to,' he says hesitantly.

She feels like everything's frozen as she, desperate for his answer, asks, 'Is that what you want?'

'No,' he says hurriedly, and she feels like she can breathe again. 'The timing is horrible, but that's our child. Ours. Even if you don't want to keep it, I know my parents would take it in. But we grew up in completely different worlds, and the idea of family honour is much more important to you than it is to me.'

'I don't want to get rid of it either,' she whispers, 'and I meant it when I said I love you.'

'If there were a way for us to be together,' he replies, opening up the conversation they've never had for fear that what-ifs would lead to if-onlys and then to broken hearts, 'would you take it?'

There's no doubt in her mind. 'Yes.'

'What if I ask your father for permission to marry you?'

Her first reaction, unflattering as it is, is to laugh. Despite their attempts to understand one another's culture, they constantly find new points of confusion. One might think that, given their situation, they would have covered marriage in depth, but they have only ever spoken about the parts of it that relates to them.

By the time she regains her composure, Ted looks offended.

'I'm sorry,' she says quickly. 'I'm not laughing at the idea of us getting married. To be honest, I would very much like that. It's just that the proper way would be for our parents to meet to discuss a potential suit; I assume the idea of the groom talking to the bride's father directly is another Muggle custom.'

That seems to mollify him, at least. 'I'm not sure that would be a good idea in our case.'

'No,' she agrees. 'My father has no reason to agree unless he knows about the pregnancy, and revealing that would make the manor a very dangerous place for you. It would be best if I talk to my father myself. It's improper, but, really, what about us isn't?'

Chapter Text

Sitting in her father's study gives Andromeda confidence. How many times did she come in here as a little girl, watching him work and admiring how important the mahogany desk and towering bookcases made him look?

Back then, she didn't fully understand his influence. All she knew was that her daddy was the best daddy in the world.

She wants her child to have the chance to look at Ted that way.

'Are you ill?' her father asks. 'Is there a problem at school?'

It's no surprise that he's worried. The day after she spoke to Ted, she wrote to her father, asking for permission to Floo home for the weekend. In her letter, she asked him to keep her visit secret from her mother, not wanting to have to convince both of them at the same time.

'It's about the contract with Malfoy,' she says, sidestepping his questions.

He sighs. 'I assure you, I am working on it. I need to ensure our relationship with his parents won't be fractured by it.'

'I know you are,' she assures him, hoping the question hasn't put her at a disadvantage. Over the Christmas break, she did her best to curb the desire to keep tabs on his progress, but she knows her impatience showed through in the way she would casually ask if he was in contact with Abraxas Malfoy.

'However, there have been some recent events that might impact the process. I understand why you said it might take until the end of the year, but it might need to be expedited for — for reasons.'

Her father raises an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic verbal misstep. 'And what reasons might those be?'

She folds her hands on the desk in front of her, steeling herself to give the spiel she has been practicing in her head ever since she and Ted decided on this course of action. 'Firstly, there is someone else I would like to marry. He may not be an ideal prospect — he's a Muggle-born and doesn't have much influence — but he's clever and hardworking, and he has the potential to be successful should he be given the chance.'

With the look of a person resigned to war, he asks, 'When did you start fancying him?'

'A while ago,' she admits.

He raises his eyebrow; she can tell he suspects it started before she first approached him about the annulment.

'It's not just a fleeting fancy,' she insists. 'I asked him for assistance with a Muggle concept, and we bonded. I've — well, I've fallen in love with him. I know I shouldn't have, but I have, and — and I don't know if I could marry anyone else after having felt what I feel for him.'

And after acting on it.

'I've sometimes wondered if I've let you girls have too much involvement in decision-making,' he says as he watches her, his gaze assessing, 'and now I fear I was right. You know the importance of who you marry. I will not marry you off to somebody who won't respect you, but I can't let you dismiss the whole institution of arranged marriage due to some boy who's different enough to catch your fancy. I'm sure he's a fine lad, but that doesn't make him suitable.'

'But he is,' she protests. 'He is suitable for me. You're right; I like that he's different. He looks at things in a completely different and utterly fascinating way, and he's fundamentally changed how I view the world. He's so honest and open, and it's a little ridiculous how bad he is at lying, but I love that about him. With him, I can just be in a way I've never been able to with anyone else — not even Bellatrix and Narcissa. There are no agendas.

'It might not make sense, but then life doesn't either. You told me that once; you told me experiences can be a mystery when you're living them but make perfect sense when you look back later. It's like that with him; it doesn't make sense for us to work, but we do, and this is one of the things where we'll look back in fifty years and finally understand what it is that binds us together.'

She cuts herself off; she's rambling and sounds suspiciously like she did back when she was a child, neither of which will do anything to convince her father that Ted is good for her.

But to her surprise, her father smiles. 'You remind me of what you were like as a child. Bellatrix was indomitable, Narcissa was rational, and you were always the most emotional. Your mother and I thought it would go away when we taught you Occlumency, but apparently it just hid from us.' He sighs. 'I don't like this, Andie. It will affect your opportunities in life, and a number of your relatives will estrange you. But your grandfather will not disown you, and neither will I.

'The annulment of your current contract will continue as planned. During your next school holidays, I'll meet with the boy and his family to see if he has as much potential as you say. We will arrange for him to obtain a good starting position somewhere that is respectable and suited to his skills. Then, I will give him three years to make a name for himself. If he proves himself capable, I will arrange a contract with him. If not, we will look to someone else.'

Her first instinct is to negotiate with him for more time; there's no way Ted can raise his reputation sufficiently in just three years. But it's not like it matters anyway; however lenient her father is being, there's no way she can accept the arrangement. It all rests on the assumption that the only time restriction they have to consider is when eligible pureblood men will be married.

She almost tells him about the baby, but she holds herself back. Her father seems earnest, and he prefers not to lie to them as a matter of principle, but she knows he's really hoping that the relationship will fizzle out in that time, letting him to arrange a more advantageous match without worrying about her feelings. She doesn't know what he'd do if told he has mere weeks to investigate Ted and make his decision; he might expedite the process further, or he might decide to look among the purebloods who are well respected and influential but of a distinctly lower tier for a bridegroom who would marry her anyway.

'I'll mention it to him,' she dithers, and he nods his agreement.

They talk for a few minutes about other matters, then she stands. 'I should return to school. I have an essay to finish by Monday.'

'Wait,' he says. 'Don't I get to know your mystery beau's name?'

'Edward Tonks.'

-x-

Andromeda's back at Hogwarts by lunchtime, and all it takes to set up a meet-up is a short note shoved into Ted's hand as they bump into each other on their way to take their seats.

After she eats, she heads straight there, wishing she didn't set the time so early.

She hasn't felt the need to make herself sick lately, but she's feeling it now. The discovery of her pregnancy took away any sense of control, the knowledge that she'll be bloating up soon makes her want to watch her weight even more, and the anxiety from the conversation with her father has sent her teetering.

But Ted should get there soon, and she doesn't want to be on her way to the bathroom when he arrives. And vomiting can't be good for the baby.

So instead, she waits.

When he arrives, he sits beside her, and she greets him with a kiss. Then, determined to get it over with, she tells him about her father's response.

Sometime during the story, he takes her hand in his. 'Would the pregnancy change things for him?'

'Yes, but I don't know how. It's too big of a risk. If you want to go with his plan, we would have to adopt out the baby. Perhaps your parents can take it and we could adopt it back later.'

'I don't like that idea,' he says. 'It's better than nothing, but I want to be able to say this child is ours. I don't want to spend our lives pretending we're not its biological parents.'

Neither does she, but they don't have many other options.

'While you were gone this morning,' he continues, 'I researched contracts. Even if you're betrothed, if you get married to someone else, it instantly nullifies the original contract. Reparations would still need to be made to the other party, but the marriage would be permanent.'

It takes a moment for what he's saying to sink in. 'Are you suggesting we elope?'

'Maybe? Again, I have nothing to lose. My parents don't care about pureblood customs and won't disown me if I break them. But your family might and your friends certainly do.'

'Ask me,' she tells him. 'Ask me properly — your way; the Muggle way.'

He shifts position until he's kneeling before her, a small black box open in his hand. A glittering ring rests in its centre.

'I went shopping with my sister this morning,' he explains, his intense gaze locked on hers. 'I love you, Andie. There is nothing I want more in the world than to marry you. You're amazing and brilliant, and I love you. Raising this child while dealing with the fallout is going to be the hardest thing we've ever done, and I can't say we're ready for it, but I know we can get through it together.

'If I had the choice, I would have chosen to wait until we were older for this. But for the life of me, I can't regret this pregnancy. I love you, and I love that we're going to have a child together, and I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life. Will you, Andromeda Hesper Black, marry me?'

'I love you too,' she replies fervently. 'How much I love you is actually kind of stupid, but I do. You're sweet and kind and good. People call my family pure because our ancestors were all witches and wizards, but then we run around in our little circles telling our little lies, and I can't see how we're any purer than someone like you.

'Our version of honour is what we're seen to be; yours is who you are. Your worldview may confound and aggravate me at times, but it's making a better person, as sappy as that sounds. You think you know how messy the consequences will be, but you don't — and that's because you genuinely don't care. You don't care about the minutiae of pureblood drama because it seems so ludicrous to you. I like your worldview, and I adore you, and I would love nothing more than to marry you. So yes. Come what may, yes.'

Grinning, he slips the ring onto her finger. As they stare down at it, her heart warms at how right it looks on her. It isn't as opulent as the rings her sisters will wear, but that makes her like it all the more.

She won't be able to wear it in public yet, of course, so she does her best to commit it to memory so she can savour it later.

The moment passes, and she smiles as she looks up into the eyes of her fiancé.

-x-

'I need your help,' she says several weeks later. After a particularly big meal, she slipped up, giving into the urge to purge herself. She knows she's eating for two now and that every nutrient is important, but she just felt so overweight underneath the glamour.

Saying the words are hard, but she knows she has to tell him. She owes it to their child, and there's no way she can do this alone.

'I had no idea,' he says once she's done.

'No one did.'

'What do you need me to do?'

'Help keep me accountable.'

-x-

They've decided to flee the moment their final exams are over. Both of them have been itching to leave for months, but they've forced themselves to hold off. It won't do them any good to not get their N.E.W.T.s, and they've been hoping the annulment will be completed by then so Abraxas Malfoy can't demand recompense.

In the meantime, Andromeda's been going to a Muggle doctor and doing her own magical check-ups. At Ted's insistence, she told the doctor about her vomiting, and he's been helping her with that as well as the pregnancy.

She's been wearing baggier clothes and using exam anxiety as an excuse to seclude herself as much as possible. The glamour charms have no known side effects, but she doesn't want to use it any more than necessary in case it harms the baby in some way.

Now, as she makes her final edits on the final exam of her school career, she knows they can't wait for the annulment any longer. The Malfoys now know about her father's intentions, but unless some miracle occurs in the next few hours, the paperwork won't be revoked in time.

'We're done!' Cassandra Fawley proclaims as they leave the Great Hall. 'How do you think you went?'

'Wonderfully,' Andromeda says, her mind distracted by the thought of what's to come.

They've already packed and shrunk their trunks, and she has a stack of Muggle and wizarding money stashed away in hers. The seventh years have been given permission to go to Hogsmeade for the afternoon, presumably since the professors know they will try to sneak out otherwise.

Their plan is to use it as an opportunity to slip away.

Another hour, she thinks, then we'll be Apparating away. After that, we'll finally be able to be open about everything.

'I'm not quite so confident,' Cassie says with a nervous laugh. 'Herbology has always been my worst subject. I don't know why — I like Potions, and that uses a similar skill set — but it's always done my head in.'

'You'll have done fine. You always stress yourself out, but it's never as bad as you think it will be.'

To Andromeda's surprise, Cassie simply smiles in response. 'Well, I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I? That's the last Herbology exam I'll ever have to do. We're done.'

Her good mood is contagious, and Andromeda finds herself laughing as she loops her arm through her friend's.

I'm going to miss you, she thinks. Please don't hate me for this.

'The sun seems that little bit brighter, isn't it?'

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Cassie frowns. 'Andie, you've been to see a healer about the vomiting, haven't you?'

'Yes,' she says. 'She confirmed what I've been telling you; it's nothing. Just pre-exam anxiety. Let's not ruin the afternoon with pointless concern.'

-x-

Andromeda sees him almost as soon as he enters the pub. Her attention has been split between her friends and the door ever since they arrived at the Three Broomsticks. Excusing herself under the guise of needing to use the bathroom, she slips away from the presumably fascinating retelling of the time Daisy Crabbe revenge-pranked Justine Hadley and set it up so it looked like one of Hadley's friends had done it.

The more she gets to know Ted, the less she thinks of some of her so-called friends.

'Check your left pocket in five minutes,' she whispers to Cassandra as she leaves.

Her inability to say a proper goodbye to her friends hurts, but she can't see any other option. If she says she's going back to the castle or for a walk, they'll want someone to accompany her. If she tells them where she's going, someone's bound to warn her parents in an attempt to either protect her or their relationship with the Blacks and Malfoys.

Hopefully, the letter she's slipped into Cassie's pocket, which explains her decision and begs her to keep in contact, will satisfy her best friend until she's able to see her again.

She pushes her way into the crowd of people searching for seats and lets herself become a part of them, waiting in the cover they provide for a minute before continuing on her way.

'Let's go,' Ted says with a smile as she meets him at the door. As she slips the ring out of her pocket and onto her finger, they head off into the cool afternoon.

-x-

I do.

The words echo through her mind as they leave the small chapel and thank the strangers they roped into acting as witnesses. They take the Knight Bus to Wrexham, where they've booked a hotel for the night.

'We have a booking under Tonks,' Ted says when they reach the reception desk. 'Edward and Andromeda Tonks.'

The sound of her new name thrills her.

'We're married,' she says, unable to help herself. The woman's a Muggle and from an entirely different country; there's no harm in her knowing. 'Newlyweds. We got married this afternoon.'

The lady smiles broadly. 'Oh, that's lovely! Congratulations! We hope you enjoy your stay.'

'We will,' Ted says cockily.

Andromeda shakes her head in response, but later, when they enter a bedroom for the first time as husband and wife, she can't help thinking that his cockiness was well-deserved.

Chapter Text

Her parents visit as soon as their honeymoon is over, meeting them in Hyde Park. Andromeda and Ted have just settled into a flat in Muggle London, close enough to his family that they'll be able to drop by easily. Apparition and Floo travel are dangerous at this stage of her pregnancy, so the proximity was an important consideration.

Its an unseasonably cool day, the breeze carrying the first hints of winter, but her enspelled coat keeps her warm.

Her father's eyes widen when he sees her growing stomach, but then he meets her gaze with a wry smile. 'I suppose that explains your sudden disappearance.'

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you,' she says, 'but…'

'You didn't want to give me the chance to intervene.' He nods. 'I can't say I'm not annoyed, but I understand.'

'Father…' Andromeda hesitates, knowing what she wants but not how it will be received. But her father answers that for her by stepping forward and hugging her. It's awkward — her family have never favoured physical displays of affection — but she takes it as the support it's intended as.

'You look happier,' he whispers in her ear. 'Healthier.'

'I am. Being away from all the pressure to conform has helped.'

'That's something, at least.'

He pulls away first.

'How are Bellatrix and Narcissa taking the news?'

'How do you think they're taking it?' her mother asks, speaking for the first time since they arrived. 'They're hurt and betrayed. Your decision doesn't just affect you; it affects them, too, in more ways than you will ever know.'

Andromeda winces at the vitriol in her tone. This is what she was expecting from the meeting, but her father's openness lulled her into a false sense of security.

'Your mother is right, to an extent. Your sisters disagree with your choices, and you put them in a bad place… but they also feel begrudging respect that you managed to keep this secret from them for so long.' Turning his attention to Ted, he continues: 'And you must be Edward Tonks. You must be a special man to earn my daughter's love.'

Ted holds out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, her father shakes it. 'Everyone calls me Ted.'

'What are your plans, Ted? What do you plan to do as a career?'

'I would like to be a healer.'

'Hmm.' Her father pauses. 'At St Mungo's, I assume?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Let's go for a walk and leave them to their discussion,' Andromeda's mother tells her, an edge to her voice.

'Yes, let's,' she replies pleasantly, willfully ignoring the tension. 'There's a nice pond over there we can walk around. My ankles have been rather sore lately, so I'm sure you'll understand if I don't want to go far.'

From the annoyance that flashes across her mother's face, she was hoping for more privacy, but there's no way Andromeda is going to let Ted out of her sight. While she trusts her father not to harm him, she knows he must feel nervous.

To her relief, from what she hears as they walk away, it sounds like her father is still planning to help Ted get a start in his career. It's not like her husband needs it — he's clever and has the potential to succeed of his own accord — but it will help, especially with the baby on the way.

'Edward seems like a pleasant enough fellow,' her mother says when they're out of earshot.

'He is.'

'I only hope he is worth the shame and dishonour you have brought down on our family.' Her tone is polite, as if she's doing nothing more than commenting on the weather, but the barb still sticks. 'Your father is trying to sugarcoat it, of course, but there is no ignoring it. Why, Eleanora Goyle snubbed her nose at me the other day. At me! Poor Bella and Rodolphus were disinvited from a society party the other day, and Cissy is out of her mind with worry.'

She doubts Bellatrix cares overly much. Society parties have never appealed to the older girl, who usually spends the whole time brainstorming ways to burn everything down. 'Nobody cares what Eleanora Goyle has to think about anything, Mother.'

They reach the pond, and Andromeda glances over her shoulder to check on Ted before stopping to gaze out across the glistening water.

'That only makes the insult harsher. The scandal is the centre of all gossip at the moment. And Cissy…'

Apparently, Andromeda is supposed to ask why her sister is so worried. 'What about Cissy?'

'Since you reneged on your contract with the Malfoys, Cissy will be forced to take your place as Lucius' bride. You know she was hoping to marry the Rowle boy, but that's no longer possible. The contract is much more stringent now, of course, and the wedding will take place as soon as Narcissa finishes school.'

So she doesn't run away like I did, Andromeda surmises. It's a slap in the face, implying that Narcissa can't be trusted anymore than Andromeda could be.

She regrets that Cissy will suffer for her actions, but she refuses to feel guilty for refusing to marry a man she didn't want.

'Naturally, you've been disowned,' her mother says. 'Your father fought the decision out of sentimentality, but your grandfather had no choice. It was the only way to try to control the damage to the family's reputation — not that it has been overly successful so far.'

'Whatever he feels is necessary,' Andromeda replies demurely, not wanting to engage in a debate about morality and honour with her mother.

She's the happiest and freest she's ever been, and she's not going to let Druella Black ruin that for her. Her mother only has her sisters' best interests at heart; she knows that. But that doesn't mean that Andromeda will let her make her feel guilty for doing what's right for herself.

'Yes, it is what he felt was necessary,' her mother says snidely, clearly still looking to pick a fight.

When Andromeda doesn't respond, however, her mother's anger seems to deflate. 'I still expect to meet your child, of course. It will never be publicly acknowledged as a Black, but I may as well meet the person who caused all of this. I only hope that this all proves to be worthwh—'

'That would be Ted and me.'

Her mother's eyebrows shoot up; the woman is not used to being interrupted. But Andromeda refuses to let someone insult her child like that.

'We're the ones who did this,' she continues, 'not our child. Now, if it's alright with you, I think it's time to return to our husbands.'

-x-

'Your father was nice,' Ted says as they enter their flat later that afternoon, locking the door behind them. 'He wants to introduce me to the head healer at St Mungo's. I'm not sure if I can accept it, but…'

She sinks onto the couch gratefully, relieved to be off her feet again. 'He'll be offended if you don't. It's one of the few things he can do for us.'

'How did it go with your mother?'

'She has always cared more about status than my father,' she says simply. 'He sees it as a means to an end; if you're successful enough, you're sure to find happiness. Whereas for my mother, it's an end in itself.'

'Oh.' He goes to the kitchen and puts the tea pot on to boil.

'I don't regret anything,' she assures him.

-x-

The baby is born two weeks early. Andromeda realises what's happening as soon as the contractions start to hit her and owls Ted to let him know. He's already there — her father's contact hired him as an intern — and helps her off the Knight Bus when she arrives. Thankfully, Ernie has been driving much more carefully than usual since she told them she was pregnant.

The birthing process is long and trying. Labour takes eighteen hours in total, almost as if the baby's trying to make up for being early by taking a long time to come out, or as if it started the process before realising it didn't want to leave its mother yet after all.

Andromeda's exhausted by the time it's over, but both she and the baby are healthy, and they're all relieved when it's done.

'Nymphadora Dawn Tonks,' Ted says when the healers ask for her name.

"Gift of the nymphs", and daybreak after a long, dark night.

After spending quite some time discussing possible names, they decided to keep it traditional. While she accepts her estrangement wholeheartedly, it's nice to retain some connection to her family, even if it's merely in her daughter's name.

At the moment, however, Andromeda truly couldn't care less about that.

Her father and Narcissa are in the waiting room, along with Cassandra. They haven't forgiven her yet, but they're there to meet the baby, willing to put the conflict aside for her sake.

She hasn't felt the urge to make herself sick in over a month. It's like the further she steps away from the heart of the wizarding world, the less she feels constrained by all the things that used to matter so much to her. There's every chance that the niggling feeling will return now that Dora has been born, but she's more prepared to fight it than she's ever been.

For now, that's enough.

Besides, it's impossible to feel melancholic when presented with the breathtaking sight of her husband cradling their child in his arms, smiling down at her with complete and utter devotion in his eyes.

Dora will never be subjected to the constraints and expectations she was. She will never have to fear marriage to someone she doesn't love. She will never wonder whether her parents will stand by her decisions and choices.

Andromeda's no longer a Black, and she's definitely no longer slim, but she's no longer being slimmed, either.

And that will always be enough.